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Frontisp 














NIMPO’S TSOUBLES 


ILLUSTRATED BY MARY HALLOCK AND SOL. EYTINGE. 

NEW YORK 

E. r. DUTTON W COMPANY 

713 BROADWAY 

1880 


BT ' , 

OLIVE THORNE MILLER 

Author of “Little Folks in j^thers and Fur,” etc. 


NIMPO SAW THAT SOMETHING WAS WRONG.— Page 121 


0 



Copyright, 1879, 

By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY. 




PRESS OF 

J, J. LITTLE AND CO., 

10 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK. 


ST. JOHNLAND 
STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY 
SUFFOLK CO., N. V. 


Dear ^ ittle People : 

Many of you young readers of St Nicholas, who be- 
came interested in Nimpo, and her troubles in ** doing 
as she pleased,” have begged me to put her into a 
book, — as a warning, perhaps. 

So here she is, in a beautiful book for you, with all 
her old troubles and many that have not been told be- 
fore. I hope you’ll like her as well in her new dress 
as you did in her old one. 


Olive Thorne Miller. 


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X « 


OOITTENTS. 


CHAP. PAGE. 

I. GOING OUT TO BOARD 7 

n. MRS. PRIMKINS 18 

in. NIMPO DRESSES UP 29 

IV. NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT 38 

V. THE FIRST SUNDAY 48 

VI. MRS. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK . . . . 51 

Vn. AN ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY 63 

VIII. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 73 

IX. Sarah’s story 83 

X. THE BATTERING-RAM CLUB 94 

XL rush’s circus 103 

xn. NIMPO MAKES CAKE 114 

xni. RUSH MAKES HIS WILL 124 

XIV. KEEPING HOUSE 130 

XV. THE STORY OP THE TINY PIGS . . ... . . 137 

XVI. RUSH RUNS AWAY 145 

XVn. THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS . . . . .155 

XVin. MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED 163 

XIX. SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS’ '. . . .178 

XX. NIMPO RIDES HORSEBACK 193 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP, PAGE. 

XXI. THE FATE OF NIMPO’s DOLL 205 

XXII. THE STOVE-PIPE HOLE 213 

XXIII. THE LOVE LETTER 218 

XXIV. THE GREEN RIBBON .226 

XXV. A NIGHT IN THE FARM-HOUSE 235 ' 

XXVI. THE GREEN RIBBON MAKES TROUBLE .... 244 

XXVII. THE WINDMILL STORE 253 

XXVin. BUILDING A LOG HOUSE 267 

XXIX. TAKING DINNER IN THE LOG HOUSE . . . .276 

XXX. NIMPO’s BRIGHT IDEA 285 

XXXI. FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN 294 

XXXII. COMING HOME . . . . .’ 307 


NIMPO’S TROUBLES. 


CHAPTER 1. 

GOING OUT TO BOARD. 

This is the story of a real girl, no wiser and 
no better than you are. I hope you’ll like her; 
and I’m sure you’ll be interested to hear about 
her troubles. They were many and grievous, but 
the greatest of all was, that she could not do as 
she pleased. 

Now, I shouldn’t be surprised if that were your 
special trouble too; and I’m going to tell you 
what Nimpo did about it. 

Nimpo wasn’t her real name, of course; it was 
one she had given herself before she could speak 
plainly, and she never had been able to get rid 
of it. 

She had a habit of talking to herself, and the 


8 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


day my story begins, she had locked herself in 
her room, and was going on in a most passion- 
ate way:: 

“ I don’t believe any body has such a hard 
time as I have ! I never can do as I please ! 
Here I am, ’most thirteen, and I never did as I 
had a mind to, a single day! I just think it’s 
too bad! 

“Mother never lets me go anywhere I want 
to, — at least, not unless every little thing is just 
so,” she added, to qualify the rather sweeping 
remark. 

“ I think she’s horrid particular, anyway. Then 
she never lets me wear my new dress! I don’t 
see any use of having a dress if you can’t wear 
it, except just to church. Oh, dear! I do wish 
I could do as I please ! Wouldn’t I have a nice 
time?” 

Having talked out her grief, though only to 
the unsympathizing walls, Nimpo felt better, and 
began to plan what she would do if that nice 
time should ever come. Her face brightened, and 
before long she was so deep in castle-building that 


GOING OUT TO BOARD, ^ 

slie forgot her troubles, and when the tea bbi. 
rang she went pleasantly down-stairs, not a bit 
like the abused damsel she thought herself. 

Perhaps it was because “coming events cast, 
their shadows before,” for her nice time was 
much nearer than she thought. They were all 
at the table, when she took her place, and hold- 
ing an animated discussion. 

“Nimpo,” said her father, “I’m going to take 
your mother with me to New York next week. 
How shall you like to keep house?” 

“Are you — is he, mother?” exclaimed Nimpo, 

“ and may I keep house ? ” 

“I’m thinking about it,” replied Mrs. Eievor, 
“ but I don’t see exactly how to arrange it. Sarah 
wants to go home for a month, or I could leave 
you with her. Perhaps I can get Mrs. Jackson 
to come and take care of you all.” 

“ Oh, no ! I can’t bear Mrs. Jackson,” Nimpo 
broke in; “mayn’t I board somewhere?” 

“That might do, Mary,” said Mr. Eievor. “Per- 
haps that would be best. You would feel easier 
about them.” 


10 


NIMFO’S TROUBLES, 


“ I don’t know who would take the care of three 
children on their hands,” said Mrs. Kievor. 

“ Children ! ” said Nimpo, “ 1 should think 1 
was old enough to take care of myself” 

Mrs. Kievor looked curiously at Nimpo, a mo- 
ment, and a light seemed to break in on her mind. 
She thought, perhaps, it would be well for her 
little daughter to take care of herself awhile. So 
she^said she would think of it. 

Well, she did think of it, and she went out the 
next morning to see about it, and when Nimpo 
came home from school she was greeted with a 
shout from Rush, who was swinging on the front 
gate. 

“ Oh, Nimpo ! It’s all settled, and we’re going 
to Mrs. Primkins’ to board. Ain’t you glad ? ” 

“I guess you’ll have to learn better manners 
than to swing on a gate, if you’re going to board 
out,” said Nimpo, with great dignity. “ I should 
be mortified to have Mrs. Primkins see such rude 
manners ; ” and she went into the house to see if 
the delightful news was really true. 

“ Oh, my ! don’t we feel grand ! ” shouted Rush, 


GOING OUT TO BOARD. 


11 


who was just at the teasing age in boys — ;if you 
know what age that is. According to my experi- 
ence, it begins at nine or ten years of age, and 
ends — when does it end, boys? 

But, for once, Nimpo did not care what he said. 
She was too much elated with her brilliant pros- 
pects to listen to him. 

“Mother, have you got us a boarding place?” 
she asked, eagerly. 

Mrs. Eievor smiled. 

“Yes, dear; at least, Mrs. Primkins says she 
will take you, if, on the whole, it is decided to 
be best.” 

“ Oh, I hope it will, mother ! I don’t want to 
stay here with that poky old Mrs. Jackson, to 
order me around.” 

“But you will find things very different there 
from what you are used to, my dear, and I’m 
afraid you’ll be disappointed.” 

“Of course, things’ll be different,” said Nimpo, 
loftily, “but I think I’d like a change. I don’t 
think it’s good for folks to live always in a rut.” 
She had read that expression in a grown-up book, 


12 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES, 


and thought it sounded striking. But, seeing a 
peculiar smile on her mother’s face, she went on 
earnestly — 

“I always did want to board out, mother, and 
I think it’ll be just splendid.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Kievor, “perhaps it will be 
good for you, and if you prefer, you may try it.” 

So that was settled, and Nimpo thought her 
day of glory was coming in. 

She went at once to her room, drew her trunk 
out of the closet, and began to look over her 
“things,” to see which she would take. It was 
delightful to select them, and pack them away 
in boxes, and it made her feel as if she were 
going on a journey. 

Kush was excited, too, though of course — being 
a boy — he would not own it. Pretty soon he 
came in. 

“What’r you doing, Nimp?” he asked. 

“ Packing up,” said Nimpo, from the closet, 
where she had gone to get her best shoes, so 
as to be sure and not forget them. 

“Then we’re to go, sure pop?” 


GOING OUT TO BOARD. 


13 


Yes, we’re to go to Mrs. Primkins’ to board, 
but I do wish you’d leave ofi‘ such vulgar words,” 
answered Nimpo. 

“I mean to pack up, too,”' said he, prudently 
not hearing her last remark. “ Nimp, would you 
take your skates?” 

“ Skates ! — ^in the middle of summer ! ” said she 
scornfully. “I think you’d better take a little 
common sense — ^if you have any in your head. I 
wish you’d go out ; you’re in my way. I want to 
spread out my things on that bed.” 

Nimpo’s room was a cosy bit of a place, with 
only room for a narrow bed, a little bureau, a 
stand, and one chair. So when Rush came in to 
see her, he always sat or lounged on the bed. 

Before she went to sleep on that wonderful 
night, Nimpo had packed every thing, except her 
dresses, and as it was a week before she went, 
she had to live in the trunk all that time. 

But that — though rather inconvenient — was 
part of the fun. 

She was a heroine at school for that week, 
the envy of the girls^ and the happiest one of 


14 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


all. Lessons were not very well learned, notes 
passed around, and in fact the whole school, 
which was not so large as schools are nowa- 
days, was demoralized by her influence, because 
she was going to “board out,” that being con- 
sidered the height of felicity among the girls of 
the village. 

The airs she put on were wonderful to see. 
She did up her hair in a very tight knot be- 
hind, feeling too old for braids, and slily let 
down a tuck in her dress. 

You see she wasn’t a bit like the good girls 
you read about; she was more like the girls you 
see — when you look in the glass. 

Well, the week came to an end, as all weeks 
will if we’re only patient, and the morning came 
on which Mr. and Mrs. Eievor were to start. 

“Now, Nimpo,” said her mother that morning, 
“I leave little Robbie to your tender care. Re- 
member he’s a baby, and will miss his mother. 
I’m sure you’ll be kind to him, dear. And I want 
you to be more considerate with Rush. I know 
he is trying — ” 


GOING OUT TO BOARD. 


15 


“I should think he was!” broke in Nimpo. 

“Well, I know he is; but it’s only his rough 
way. Try to be patient with him. I want to 
speak to you of Mrs. Primkins, too. You’ll find 
some things you’re not used to, my dear, but 
I know she’ll be kind to you, and I hope you 
will be respectful to her, and do as she wishes 
you to.” 

“Of course I shall be respectful, mother,” said 
Nimpo, putting on her high and mighty air, “ but 
I don’t see why I should mind her. I’m sure I’m 
old enough to know what’s right for me to do. I 
shall only be a boarder, any way.” 

“Well, daughter,” were Mrs. Eievor’s last words, 
“I hope you will be as happy as you expect.” 

“ There’s the stage 1 ” shouted Kush from the 
front gate; and, sure enough, the old red stage, 
with its four white horses, came sweeping around 
the corner, and stopped at the gate. 

In a moment the trunks were strapped in 
the big “ boot ” behind. Father and mother said 
good-by, and were packed in, the driver climbed 
to his seat, cracked his whip, and off they went. 


16 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


leaving Nimpo, Eush and Eobbie at the gate, and 
black Sarah at the door. 

Eobbie began to cry, and even Ensh felt a 
slight choke in his throat, but Nimpo was too 
much taken up with her brilliant prospect to feel 
unhappy. 

“ Now, Eobbie,” she began, in her most elder- 
sisterly way, “don’t cry, dear; we’re going up to 
our boarding place, and you’ll see what fine times 
we’ll have ! ” 

“ Hadn’t ye better stay here till arter dinner ? ” 
said Sarah. “I won’t get done clarin up ’fore 
the arternoon, an’ I kin jist as well cook y’r 
dinner.” 

“No, I thank you, Sarah,” said Nimpo, loftily, 
“ I want to take possession of my new rooms this 
morning.” 

Sarah smiled, but Eush shouted: 

“ Nimp’s on her stilts again ! I say, Nimp, 
don’t forget to take the big dictionary up to old 
Primkins’. They’ll all have to study it if you 
keep on.” 

Nimpo threw a most withering look on him. 


GOING OUT TO BOARD, 


17 


but he didn’t wither a bit. He only laughed 
louder, and Sarah said quietly, 

“Law, now! I reckon ye’ll git off that ar 
high hoss, ’fore you’ve been to Miss Primkins’ a 
week. She ain’t much like y’r ma, no ways.” 

Nimpo disdained reply. 

“You can leave the key of the house with 
Cousin Will, at the store, Sarah,” she said with 
dignity. 

“Yes, Miss Eievor,” said Sarah, sarcastically. 
“ So y’r ma tole me. Lor’ I won’t she git took 
down a peg I ” she added, with a laugh to herself, 
the next minute, as Nimpo disappeared through 
the door. 

The trunks had been removed the day before; 
so nothing remained but to walk up there. 

Nimpo started off, leading Kobbie, and Kush, 
stopping to gather up a bow and arrow he was 
making, followed closely along behind. 


CHAPTER IL 


MRS. PRIMKINS. 

Mrs. Primkins lived in a two-story brick house, a 
block or two above Mr. Rievor’s. It was the new- 
est and most stylish-looking house on the street, 
and that was one reason Nimpo was pleased to go 
there. 

Mrs. Primkins, however, was not stylish in the 
least. Her hair was cut short in her neck, her 
dress was short and scant, and in her whole 
figure there was a tightened-up ready-for-action 
look, that meant work. In fact, she was a kind- 
hearted, uneducated woman, whose life was spent 
in her kitchen, and who knew very little out 
of it. 

She consented to take the children to board, 
because she wanted money to furnish her half- 
empty rooms. 


MRS. PRIMKINS. 


19 


When Nimpo reached the house, she went up 
to the front door, and finding no bell, gave a 
delicate, lady-like knock. 

No reply. 

She knocked again, louder this time. In a 
moment she heard a window opened, and Au- 
gusta Primkins put her head out. 

“Go ’round the back way,” she screamed. 

“Well, I never!” said Nimpo, tossing her head; 
but she went, and there she found Mrs. Primkins 
washing dishes. 

“ Excuse me, Mrs. Primkins,” she said. “ I 
knocked at the front door, but could not make 
you hear.” 

“ Laws I ” cried Mrs. Primkins, stopping to look 
at her. “Why didn’t you come right around? 
I don’t expect to make company of you;” and 
she returned to her dish-pan. 

“Will you be kind enough to show me my 
rooms ? ” asked Nimpo, with her grandest, young- 
ladylike air. 

Mrs. Primkins stopped now in earnest, stood 
a moment looking at the pompous young figure 


20 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


in the doorway, laughed a little to herself, Aviped 
her hands on her apron, and then went to a door 
which seemed to lead up-stairs. 

“ Au-gus-tee ! ” she screamed. 

“Ma’am,” came faintly down from the attic. 

“ Them Rievor children’s come ; you show them 
their rooms.” 

“Children, again!” thought poor Nimpo. “I’ll 
soon show them I’m no child.” 

“I s’pose you’d ’s’lieves go up the back way?” 
said Mrs. Primkins, holding open the door. 

“It makes no difference,” said Nimpo, haugh- 
tily, and up she went. 

When she got to the head of the stairs, she 
looked around for Augusta, but a voice came 
from above — 

“Come up-stairs, children.” 

Nimpo hesitated, and Mrs. Primkins called from 
below— 

“Take the little door at your left hand.” 

Then Nimpo saw a narrow, unpainted door, 
which she opened. There was the next flight 
of stairs, regular garret stairs, narrow and steep. 


MRS. PRIMKINS. 


21 


Up these she climbed, her heart boiling over with 
wrath. 

“It can’t be possible!” she said to herself, “that 
that horrid woman means to put us in the 
attic 1 ” <• 

But she did; for there stood Augusta at the 
head of the landing, and she pointed to two 
small, unpainted doors, on one side of the attic. 

“ Those are your rooms. You can divide them 
as you like.” 

“But I thought — but can’t we have rooms 
down-stairs?” stammered Nimpo, with tears of 
vexation in her eyes. 

Augusta looked at her with surprise. 

“There ain’t a stick of furniture in the cham- 
bers. This is my room,” and she opened the door 
of the front attic, showing a broad room, the 
whole width of the house, with a droll window 
half across the front. This window was in the 
peak of the roof, and, of course, it could not go 
up; so it was arranged with hinges, and hung 
down into the room. It was now open, and it 
looked as though half the wall was out. 


22 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Nimpo turned away, and with a swelling heart, 
opened one of the other doors. 

The room was a small one, with sloping roof on 

one side. A bed was pushed under this low part, 
and before it stood a cheap stand and one wooden 
chair. A window at the end looked out upon a 
roof, and the kitchen chimney smoked away only 
five or six feet from the sash. 

There was an awful crash of air castles in 
Nimpo’s heart. She turned to look at the other 
room, but found it even worse ; for it had no wash- 
stand at all. She returned, drew Eobbie in, shut 
the door, sat down on the foot of the bed, and — 
burst into tears. 

“ Don’t cry, Nimp,” said Eush, by way of conso- 
lation, while Eobbie climbed up by her and said: 

“This room’s too up high; that wall’s going to 
fall down.” 

“ It’s real mean, anyhow,” Eush went on, “ to 
put us up in the garret like this. It ain’t half so 
good as our house, for all it looks so grand!” 

“Mean!” said Nimpo, who had recovered her 
voice. “ It’s horrid I the stingy old thing I I’ll 


MRS. PRIMKINS. 


23 


bet she didn’t tell mother where she was going 
to put us! I’ll never stay here — never — I You 
see if I do.” 

“What you going to do?” asked Eush, when 
he saw Nimpo jerk her bonnet from its peg. 

“ I’m going straight to the store to see Cousin 
Will,” she answered; “I know he’ll help us some- 
how. I won’t stay here a minute.” 

She stalked down-stairs, the two boys still fol- 
lowing her. Mrs. Primkins was not in the kitch- 
en, so they got out without being seen, and 
hastened to their father’s store. 

“Cousin Will,” Nimpo began passionately the 
moment she saw him, “ I want you to get us an- 
other boarding place.” 

“ Why, Nimpo, your mother made arrangements 
for you,” answered Will. 

“I know it; but that horrid Mrs. Primkins gave 
us mean little rooms up in the attic, and I can’t 
bear them. They’re ever so much meaner than 
Sarah’s room at our house, and I can’t stand it, — 
so there 1 ” 

Cousin Will looked puzzled. 


24 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“Well, I don’t see what I can do for you. No- 
body takes boarders, you know, — except students, 
— and I don’t see but what you’ll have to stand 
it. It won’t be long anyway; and you needn’t 
stay much in your room, you know.” 

“But why can’t I have Mrs. Jackson to keep 
house, as mother proposed?” asked Nimpo. 

“Mrs. Jackson is taking care of Mrs. Smith, 
who is very sick. I know she wouldn’t leave 
her,” replied Cousin Will. 

Nimpo’s face fell. 

“ Oh, dear ! it’s too mean for any thing ! I 
never have any thing as I want it!” 

“But I’m sure this plan is yours; you refused 
to have Mrs. Jackson, yourself.” 

“So I did,” said poor Nimpo; “but I never 
thought of being treated so.” 

“Well, I don’t see what you can do,” said Cous- 
in Will, who evidently didn’t think it a killing 
matter to sleep in an attic room. “I guess you’ll 
have to ‘grin and bear it,’ as Sarah says.” 

“ Let’s go home,” suggested Kush. “ Sarah’s 
there yet, and we’ll make her stay.” 


MRS. PRIMKINS. 


25 


But Nimpo remembered tlie lofty airs she bad 
put on that very morning, and she couldn’t bear 
to come down to Sarah. So she called her pride 
to her aid, and made a resolve. 

“No, Kush, we’ll go back there and stand it. 
It’s horrid mean of her; but we needn’t stay in 
the rooms, you know, and we’ll have some fun, 
anyway.” 

So back they went. 

They had not been there long before the lower 
door opened, and a shrill scream came up: 

“Come to dinner, children!” 

“ Children, again I ” said Nimpo. “ I’ll show 
her — 

They found the dinner table in the kitchen, to 
Nimpo’s horror. 

“You may set right down there,” said Mrs. 
Primkins, pointing to a chair on one side of the 
table, “and Kobbie can have the high chair next 
to you. You, Rush, set down by Augusty.” 

They took their seats. Mr. Primkins was al- 
ready in his place. Nimpo tied on Robbie’s bib, 
and looked around. I don’t suppose she would 


26 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


really have cared much how her dinner was 
served, if she hadn’t dreamed so much, and worse 
yet, said so much, about the “style” of boarding. 
But the dishes of coarse crockery, with blue edges, 
such as they used at home to bake pies on, the 
big, awkward knives and two-tined forks, the 
unbleached table-cloth, the square table, with 
leaves propped up, so that you had to be careful 
not to hit the leg, or you might have your din- 
ner in your lap — all these together were dreadful 
troubles just then. 

Then there was the great piece of corned beef, 
— which she never could eat, and whole pota- 
toes, — ^which she hated to peel, and boiled cab- 
bage, — which she could just manage to swallow. 

Mr. Primkins did not ask her what she would 
have. He piled a plate up with beef, potatoes, 
and cabbage, and handed it over to her in such 
a matter-of-course way, that she could not say 
a word. He did the same with Rush. Rush was 
hungry, — did you ever know a boy who wasn’t? 
— and he proceeded to dispose of his plateful; 
but Robbie began to fret. 


MRS. PRIMKINS. 


27 


“ Nimpo, I don’t want that meat. I want some 
fat meat. I don’t like that potato; it’s a black 
potato.” 

“Never mind!” whispered Nimpo, blushing; 

“ ni fix it.” 

“Don’t fix it! — take away that meat!” Kobbie 
went on, ready to cry. 

Nimpo hastily slipped the meat upon her own 
plate, peeled Eobbie’s potato, and mashed it for 
him, gave him a piece of fat from her plate, and ^ 
after awhile, with burning cheeks, was ready to 
cram her own dinner down. 

Meanwhile, Eush had emptied his plate, and 
passed it up for more, at which Mrs. Primkins, 
who was nibbling around the edge of hers, said : 

“ Dear ! dear ! what an appetite boys do have ! ” 
— adding, as she saw Nimpo’s indignant face : 

“What wouldn’t I give if I could eat like a 
boy!” 

“Let him eat,” was Mr. Primkin’s reply, be- 
tween two mouthfuls, “he’s a-growin’.” 

That was the only remark he made. As soon 
as he had finished his meal, he pushed back his 


28 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


chair, took his hat and went ont. Mrs. Primkins 
also left the table the moment she had finished, 
and, finally, Nimpo found herself left alone with 
Bobbie, who was very slow to eat, lingering as 
little folk will. 

“ Come, bub, ain’t you through ? ” said Mrs. 
Primkins. “ I can’t dawdle round all day. I 
want to get the dishes done up.” 

Nimpo hurried him off, and rushed up-stairs 
once more, in a blaze of indignation, while Mrs. 
Primkins said to herself, as she cleared the table — 

“Too many airs for my time o’ day! the pert 
little huzzy! can’t eat corned beef! humph! I’ll 
have to take her down .a bit, ’fore I can live with 
her,” and by the way the table-cloth was jerked 
off, you’d think she meant to do it, too. 


CHAPTER III. 


NIMPO DRESSES UP. 

Climbing to the attic rooms again, Nimpo opened 
her trunk, and took out her dresses, which she 
hung on a row of nails at the foot of the bed. 

Robbie looked on with great interest for a mo- 
ment, then suddenly, to Nimpo’s dismay, began 
to cry. 

“I don’t like it here,” he sobbed; “I want to 
go home to mamma.” 

“Hush! Robbie,” said his sister, kissing and 
soothing him, hurriedly ; “ never mind, dear. 
We’ll dress up and go out to walk. We’ll have 
some fun, if things are horrid here.” 

So, with another kiss, she put on his white suit 
and red boots, and then took down her new dress. 

“Now I’ll have the good of this dress, and I’ll 


30 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


show mother that I can wear it other days besides 
Sunday, and not spoil it,” she said to herself. 

The dress was of blue harege. She put it on, 
with her best cloth boots, and her blue sash. 

“ What for you dressed all up ? ” ashed Eobbie, 
rubbing his eyes. 

“ Because I’m going out to walk. Mother puts 
on her best dress when she goes out — sometimes,” 
she added, for she felt a little guilty; “I don’t 
see why 1 shouldn’t do so too.” 

“ Ain’t you a very pretty girl ? ” asked Eobbie, 
earnestly, after studying the effect of the blue 
dress for some minutes. 

“ Do you think I am ? ” asked Nimpo, laughing. 

“ P’r’aps you are. I sink so,” said Eobbie. 

“Well, you’re a darling little rose-bud!” said 
Nimpo, giving him a spasmodic hug. 

“ Ain’t I a pretty big rose-bud ? ” asked Eobbie, 
seriously, “and ’sides, where’s my stem?” 

“ Oh, you’re the kiiid of rose-bud that has legs, 
and don’t need a stem,” said Nimpo, starting 
down-stairs. 

“I’m not going down the kitchen way,” said 


NIMPO DRESSES UP. 


31 


she, when they reached the foot of the attic 
stairs. “ I guess I’m a boarder ! ” and feeling 
very haughty and fine, she went down the front 
stairs. 

Mrs. Primkins heard them and opened the 
kitchen door. 

“I don’t want you to go up and down that 
way,” she said, “tramping up my stair carpet. 
You can use the back stairs — ^like the rest of us.” 

Nimpo made no reply, but started for the front 
door.” 

“Don’t go out that way!” screamed Mrs. Prim- 
kins; “I can’t be running round to lock doors 
after a parcel of young ones, not by a jug-full I 
Come out the back door.” 

Swelling with indignation, Nimpo turned. 

“I am accustomed to go out the front door at 
home, Mrs. Primkins.” 

“Wall, you ain’t to home now, and you needn’t 
tramp up my front hall. I can tell you that. I 
don’t wUnt every thing going to rack and ruin, 
and I hain’t got no servants to sweep out after 
you, as your ma has.” 


32 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


So they went out the back door, and took their 
way down town. 

Now, in that little western village set down 
in the woods of Ohio, children did not dress 
finely every day; so, when Nimpo appeared on 
the street in her blue barege., she attracted a 
good deal of notice. Every one said, “Why! 
where are you going, Nimpo?” 

She enjoyed it for awhile, but finally she began 
to be annoyed. 

“Just as if one couldn’t dress up without hav- 
ing every body act so! I do think the people 
in this town are dreadfully countrified ! ” she said 
to herself 

When she came to the school-house the girls 
were out at recess. 

“There’s Nimpo!” some one shouted, and in a 
moment ' she was surrounded by a crowd of eager 
schoolmates. 

“Where’re you going?” was the first question, 
and then, “How do you like it?” “Are you 
having a nice time?” “Ain’t it splendid to do 
as you’re a mind to?” etc., etc. 


NIMPO DRESSES UP. 


33 


“ 0, girls ! ” said Nimpo, “ it’s perfectly horrid 
there. They eat with two-tined forks ! and don’t 
have napkins ! Mrs. Primkins is a vulgar woman, 
and a tyrant. But I don’t care, I sha’n’t mind 
her. I have to sleep in the garret, and I ’most 
know there’s rats in the wall.” 

“Oh my!” and “Oh it’s too bad!” and “Write 
to your mother to come home,” and other expres- 
sions of sympathy followed this announcement, 
until Nimpo suddenly felt that she was a hero- 
ine. She had read stories about those suffering 
individuals, and began to think since she couldn’t 
be stylish, she would be a persecuted heroine. 

Now, you must know that Nimpo was very 
fond of reading, and read every book she could 
beg or borrow. And the books she borrowed of 
the school girls were not at all like yours; far 
from it! they were always in two or three small, 
dark-covered volumes, and the stories were the 
histories of interesting damsels who were perse- 
cuted and tormented from the title page to the 
very last leaf of the book. 

Nimpo had read several of these — inside of her 
3 


34 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


geograpliy, at school (for she knew her mother 
would object to them) — and she thought it would 
be interesting to adopt that role. 

“ Of course it’s frightful staying there,” she 
began; “but then, I suppose, one must expect 
troubles everywhere, and, if nothing very dread- 
ful happens, I suppose I can endure it.” 

“ Just see Nimpo take on airs ! ” said Ellen Lum- 
bar d, in a low tone; “I never saw any one so 
affected ! ” 

But Nimpo did not hear, and she went on more 
naturally — 

“To-morrow is Saturday; and I’m coming to 
see one of you girls.” 

“ Oh, me ! me ! ” said half a dozen. 

“Well, I guess I’ll begin with Nanny Cole,” ^ 
said she. “ Of course, I’ll have to bring Bobbie.” 

“Oh, of course!” said Nanny, snatching him 
out of the arms of the twentieth girl who had 
kissed him, and said he was “ as sweet as he could 
be,” since Nimpo had been talking, “ and be sure 
you come early. We’ll play on the creek.- We 
can build dams, and have ever so much fun,” 


NIMPO DRESSES UP. 


35 


So it’was agreed; and as the bell began ringing 
just then, the girls went in, and Nimpo and Kob- 
bie continued their walk. 

After awhile they went to the store, where they, 
found Eush making a big pile of old barrels, and 
such rubbish, for a bonfire in the back yard. Bob- 
bie wanted to help; so Nimpo sat on the back 
steps and read a book that one of the girls had 
lent her, till it was time to go home. 

“Wall! wall! if that young one ain’t a sight 
to behold ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Primkins, when she 
caught sight of Robbie. 

He was dreadfully dirty, — for the old barrel 
staves and bits of boards that he had been carry- 
ing were not of the cleanest. 

“ He’d ought to have good long-sleeved checked 
aprons,” said Mrs. Primkins, severely, “and I’ve 
as good a mind to make him some as ever I had 
to eat. Them stains’ll never come out.” 

“ He should naver wear one — never ! ” Nimpo 
thought, angrily, but she said nothing. And per- 
haps Mrs. Primkins saw it in her face; for the 
checked-apron subject was never renewed. 


36 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


When supper was ready, there was nothing on 
the table but a plate of bread, and a bowl of milk, 
and Mrs. Primkins’ cup of tea. 

Mr. Primkins put a slice of bread on his plate, 
and passed the bread to the rest. Then, taking 
the bowl of milk, he dipped out a few spoon- 
fuls to cover his slice of bread, and put the bowl 
before Kush, who sat next. Having ended his 
duties as host, he then took up his knife and fork 
and began to cut up and eat his bread and milk. 

Kush had not noticed him, and seeing the bowl 
of milk near him, supposed it was for him, so he 
took it upon his plate, and innocently began to 
crumb his bread into it. 

Nimpo was horrified; though to be sure, she 
had never seen bread and milk eaten in the Prim- 
kins’ style. 

Mrs. Primkins got up with a low “ Humph ! ” 
and brought another bowl of milk, while Augusta 
laughed, and even Mr. Primkins relaxed enough 
to grin and say: 

“ Hope you like milk, sonny ! ” 

“Yes, I do, — first-rate,” said Kush, innocently. 


NIMPO DRESSES UP. 


37 


After tea, all the children went into the yard 
and played “ tag,” till bed-time. Of course, Nim- 
po tore her new dress on the fence ; but it was in 
the back breadth, and she thought she could sew 
it up. So, after all, she didn’t care much for that. 

She was sorry that Eobbie had soiled his white 
suit, so that he could not wear it to Nanny’s next 
day. 

“Never mind!” she said to herself, “his buff 
linen is clean, and that will do well enough.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 

f 

Nimpo slept very well, — if it was in an attic 
room — and the next morning she was up bright 
and early to get ready for Nanny Cole’s, though 
she did not intend to go till afternoon. When 
she began to dress she could find no washing con- 
veniences, so she went across the attic to Augus- 
ta’s room. 

“There’s no wash-bowl in my room,” said she. 

“We don’t use wash-bowls,” said Augusta; “we 
wash in the wood-shed when we go down. There’s 
always a basin and towel there.” 

“ But I never washed in a wood-shed,” said Nim- 
po passionately, “ and I never will ! I’ll bring 
some things from home this very day.” And she 
rushed back to her room, too indignant to cry 


even. 


NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 39 


Augusta seemed amazed at her spirit, for she 
went down-stairs and soon returned with a tin 
basin half full of water, and a brown towel. 

“Ma says you can have this in your room, 
if you’re so dreadful particular,” and she set it 
down. 

Nimpo took it silently, and after that she had 
fresh water for her own use (when she didn’t for- 
get to bring it up)j but Kush washed in the wood- 
shed and said it was first-rate, “’Cause a fellow 
could spatter as much as he liked.” 

After breakfast, Nimpo sat down to mend her 
torn dress. She sewed up the rent as well as she 
could, — with white thread, — and then to pass 
away the time till dinner, she thought she would 
write to her mother, as she had promised to do. 
She got her little portfolio, which her mother had 
filled nicely with paper, and in one pocket of 
which were four new stiff quill pens, which her 
father had made for her. Nimpo had never heard 
of a gold pen, and no doubt she would have 
scorned the very idea of a steel pen. Seat- 
ing herself by the window, with a thin book 


40 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


on her knees, she took a sheet of paper and 
wrote : 

Deab Mother, 

It’s horrid here. I don’t like it a hit. We sleep in a mean 
little hole in the attic, and I’m sure there’s rats in the wall. 

They have two-tined forks to eat with, and eat bread and 
milk on a plate. I tore my blue dress, but mended it just 
as nice. Don’t forget to bring me a book of poems. 

The girls pity me. I’m, going to spend the afternoon with 
Nanny Cole. I haven’t any drawers to put my things in. 

Give my love to Neal and Mate if you have got there. It 
is dinner-time now, so good-by. 

Your affectionate daughter, 

Nnupo Eievoe. 

When this letter was finished," Nimpo folded it 
in a way that I don’t suppose you ever heard of — 
for envelopes were not in fashion then, any more 
than steel pens. She next lighted a candle which 
she had brought up-stairs when she came, took a 
stick of sealing wax and a glass stamp out of the 
portfolio, and made a neat round seal on the back 
of the letter. She then put it into her pocket to 
take to Cousin Will to direct. 


NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 41 


Nanny Cole lived at the edge of the village, and 
very near the woods. There was also a shallow 
creek close by, in which the children were allowed 
to play, for it was not considered deep enough to 
be dangerous. With all these attractions, Nan- 
ny’s house was a favorite place to visit, especially 
with Nimpo, who never could get enough of the 
woods. 

As she and Eobbie approached the house, Nan- 
ny and her brother came out, and they all went 
to the woods. First they got their hands and 
arms full of wild flowers, moss, acorns and pine 
cones, and when at last they could carry no more, 
they found a pretty place for a house. 

It was against the roots of a large tree, which 
had blown down. The great bundle of roots, 
higher than their heads, and full of earth, stood 
up straight, and before it was the hole it had left. 
This droll house they adorned with their treasures, 
making a carpet of moss, and bouquets of the 
flowers, which they stuck into cracks in the great 
root. 

When the house was flnished they played awhile. 


42 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Then finding a fiat stone for a table, they spread 
it with cookies from a basket Mrs. Cole had given 
them. 

They spent some time over this meal, eating 
from plates of clean birch bark, and drinking 
“ white tea ” out of dainty acorn cups. 

Then John proposed they should go and play 
on the creek, and down they went. For some 
time they built dams where the water was very 
shallow. Then they sailed boats made of pieces 
of bark, loaded with small pebbles, which they 
called bags of wheat, or with passengers — made 
of pieces of twigs, with acorn cups for hats. 
These boats all started off bravely, and sailed 
gaily down the creek for a few rods, but there 
the current took them towards a rock in the 
middle of the stream, and against that nearly 
every one of them was wrecked. If it passed, 
it was sure to be capsized in a little eddy just 
beyond. 

After enjoying this a long time, John proposed 
that they all should sail about on boards. Of 
course, Nimpo was ready for that, so they each 


NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 43 


got a board, and took a long pole with which 
to push their rafts along. In this way they went 
up and down the creek and had line times. 

Eobbie was not big enough to have a boat by 
himself, so he sailed with John for awhile. But 
at last John thought he would go down through 
the rapids, as they called a place where the creek 
spread out wide, and was filled with large stones. 

Nimpo told Robbie to come to her boat, and 
she pushed her board up towards John’s, so that 
he could do it. Before she was quite ready Rob- 
bie jumped on, and coming so suddenly, upset 
the narrow raft and threw them both into the 
water. 

It was not very dangerous, as I have said, for 
it was not deep, but it was very wet, and Nimpo 
fell her full length. 

John and Nanny hurried to help her, and in a 
moment she stood on the bank, wet to the skin 
— and Robbie in the same plight. They hurried 
up to the house. Mrs. Cole wanted Nimpo to 
put on some of Nanny’s clothes, and hang her 
own up to dry, but Nimpo would not consent. 


44 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


She said she would stand by the kitchen fire and 
dry herself. 

So by the fire she stood, one long hour that 
hot day, while Mrs. Cole took off Eobbie’s clothes 
and dried them. Even then she was not half dry. 
but she was tired and warm, and she thought she 
looked well, enough to go through the streets. 

But something ailed her dress, it would not 
dry straight. In spite of pulling and smoothing 
it would not “come right,” and she saw very 
plainly that she could never wear it again. 

“If Mrs. Primkins does her duty,” said Mrs. 
Cole, as at last Mmpo and Bobbie started for 
home, “ she’ll put you to bed, and give you a hot 
dose of ginger tea.” 

“I guess she won’t,” thought Nimpo, “for I 
won’t tell her a word about it. I hate ginger 
tea.” 

It was nearly dusk when she entered the kitch- 
en door, hoping to slip up-stairs before any one 
saw her. But Mrs. Primkins’ eyes were sharp. 

“ Why, Nimpo Kievor ! What on earth ! Have 
you been in the water ? ” 


NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 45 


Nimpo’s heart sank. 

“ I got a little wet, up at Mrs. Cole’s,” said she. 

“Got a little wet! I should think so! Did 
you fall in the creek up there?” 

“Yes,” faltered Nimpo, “but I’m all dry now.” ' 

“ All dry ! Humph ! You’ve probably got your 
death o’ cold. But I’ll do my duty anyway, as 
I promised your ma. Little did I know what a 
chore it would be either,” she muttered to herself, 
adding at once, “you go right straight to bed, 
and be spry about it too, and I’ll come up there 
with a cup of tea for you.” 

Nimpo groaned, but did not dare to rebel, and 
besides, she was a little frightened about the 
“ death o’ cold.” She didn’t wish to die just yet. 

She climbed to her room, undressed, put on dry 
clothes, and laid down on the bed. 

In a few minutes Mrs. Primkins came up, in one 
hand a blanket, in the other a bowl. Putting the 
bowl on the stand, she first wrapped Nimpo in 
the blanket, which she had heated by the kitchen 
fire, and then she held the bowl to her lips and 
told her to drink every drop. 


46 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


This tea was, indeed, “a horrid black stuff,” 
very much worse than ginger tea. Nimpo choked 
and gasped and gagged, but swallowed it. 

Mrs. Primkins smiled grimly, and gave her a 
lump of sugar to take the taste out of her mouth. 

“Now, don’t you stir hand or foot out of that 
blanket, however warm you get. If you don’t get 
a good sweat you’ll have a chill, sure’s you live. 
When it’s time for you to come out I’ll run up or 
send Augusty;” and down-stairs she went. 

This ended Nimpo’s first whole day of liberty. 
She had a good chance to think it over as she lay 
there wide awake. She had spoiled her visit to 
Nanny, ruined her own nice dress and boots, and, 
perhaps, caught a dreadful cold and fever. 

On the whole she had been unhappy ever since 
her mother left home, though she couldn’t exactly 
see why. 

“ I wouldn’t mind the wetting,” she thought, as ' 
she lay there alone. “I could stand this horrid 
blanket, though I believe I shall smother — and 
that bad stuff!” shuddering as she thought of it; 

“ but I know my dress is spoiled, and what shoJl I 


NIMPO MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 47 


do without a nice dress till mother gets back? 
And Helen Benson’s birthday party next week? 
Oh, dear! why didn’t I wear a clean calico and 
white apron as mother always made me ? ” And 
Nimpo’s first day of freedom actually ended in a 
fit of tears. 

But finally she cried herself to sleep, and when 
Mrs. Primkins came at bed-time, she found her 
just waking up and all cold gone. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE FIRST SUNDAY. 

The next day was Sunday, and Nimpo was up 
early, feeling the responsibility of getting the 
boys and herself ready for church and Sunday- 
school. 

With all her desire for liberty, she never had 
so wild a dream as staying at home from church. 

In fact, in that village, one who deliberately 
stayed at home when he was able to stand, was 
looked upon as a desperate sinner. 

Nimpo did not feel prepared to face the public 
opinion of the whole town, especially as she was 
sure Mr. Binney, — ^the minister, — would notice her 
absence and speak about it. 

So, though she had to wear a clean gingham 
dress and her school shoes, she dressed Robbie, 


THE FIRST SUNDAY. 


49 


helped Eush put on his collar and tie his black 
neck-ribbon, and got ready herself. 

As a last touch, after her hat was tied on, she 
took up her clean handkerchief by the middle 
fold, and shook it out so that the four corners 
hung together, and held it thus very carefully in 
her left hand. 

Then she went to a corner of the garden and 
picked several bunches of green caraway or fen- 
nel, to keep her awake in church. These she held 
with her handkerchief, and taking Eobbie’s hand, 
she called to Eush to bring her Sunday-school 
book from the table, and away they went to the 
Sunday-school and church. 

Sunday-school was at nine o’clock and church 
at half-past ten. So they did not get home till 
nearly one o’clock. 

Then they ate a lunch of pie and doughnuts, 
with, perhaps, a glass of milk. And at half-past 
two they went to church again. 

After that, the rest of the day was spent in 
reading Sunday-school books, getting next week’s 
lesson, eating supper, and perhaps taking a nap. 
4 


50 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Sometimes, when their mother was at home, if 
they were very quiet and would promise to walk 
slowly, they were allowed to take a walk to the 
graveyard. 

But Mrs. Primkins did not approve of that; 
so after they had read their thin little Sunday- 
school books twice through (Nimpo used to won- 
der if they were so thin because the children 
were so very good that there wasn’t much to 
say about them), and had looked at all the pic- 
tures in the big Bible, they were very glad to 
drag themselves off to bed at eight o’clock. 

I tell you thus carefully about Nimpo’s Sun- 
days, because I want you to see how the world 
has become wiser since she was little, and how 
much more pleasant the day is made for you. 


CHAPTER VI. 


MRS. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK. 

Monday morning came, and Rush, got ready for 
school. 

“I’m not going to school to-day,” said Nimpo. 

“Well, l am,” said Rush. “It’s awful dull here, 
and I can have some fun with the boys.” And 
off he started. 

Now, Nimpo felt rather lonesome; but one of 
the things she thought her mother was especially 
cruel about, was making her go to school every 
day, and, of course, the only way to enjoy her 
liberty was to stay at home. 

Mrs. Primkins saw what she intended to do, and 
resolved to take her in hand. So after breakfast 
she said, coolly: 

“Nimpo, I expect you to do your own washing 
while you are here. I have enough of my own, 
without washing such a raft of things as that,” 


52 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


and she pointed to the pile of clothes Nimpo 
had put out. 

« It was rather a formidable pile, — three or four 
dresses, three or four linen suits for Bobbie, as 
many for Kush, besides under-clothes, and such 
things. 

Nimpo looked at it in dismay; but Mrs. Prim- 
kins went on: 

“ There’s a pail you can take ; here’s a piece 
of soap, and you’ll find hot water on the stove.” 

Now, Nimpo knew no more about w'ashing 
than a butterfly; and her heart rebelled; but she 
didn’t quite dare to say any thing. So, gloom- 
ily she went to work. She filled the pail with 
water, seized a pair of Bobbie’s knickerbockers, 
and began. 

She rubbed and rubbed, and she soaped and 
soaped, and not a speck could she get out of 
those clothes. Her back ached; the skin seemed 
scalded from her hands; her dress was soaked 
from waist to hem. 

But there was Augusta Primkins, not so very 
much older than she, up to her brown elbows 


MRS. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK. 53 


in suds, and working away with ease. So Nim- 
po’s pride helped her, and she endured as long 
as she could. At last, when the pain of her raw 
fingers became intolerable, and the perspiration 
ran off her face in big drops, and an extra swish 
of the knickerbockers sent half the pail of suds 
over her clothes, she blazed up. 

Throwing down the garment with a tragical air, 
she burst out with : 

“ Mrs. Primkins ! my mother doesn’t intend to 
educate me for a washerwoman. I will send my 
clothes to Mrs. Jackson!” 

“ I don’t think your schoolin’ is gitting much 
attention, since you come here,’’ said Mrs. Prim- 
kins, dryly. “ I don’t think children git much 
good running around, trapesing all over the coun- 
try, with nothing to do. Satan always finds some 
work for idle hands to do. So, if you don’t go to 
school, why, you’ll have to work in my house. 
There’s no two ways about that. I’ll wash your 
clothes now; you can do up the dishes.” 

Nimpo stalked from the wash-room into the 
kitchen, feeling that minding her was intolera- 


54 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


ble, yet too well brought up to think of serious 
rebellion. 

She washed the odious blue-edged dishes, feel- 
ing all the time an aching desire to pitch them 
out of the window. Then she went up-stairs, 
threw herself on the bed and had a good cry. 

After awhile, she felt better, and rose and 
changed her wet clothes. 

“I guess I’ll go to school, if the mean old 
thing’s going to make me wash dishes,” she said 
to herself. 

So in the afternoon she went to school. Miss 
Osgood was glad to see her, and so were the 
girls; and, to her own surprise, she felt happier 
than she had since her mother went away. 

While they were bending over their geogra- 
phies, rocking back and forth and moving their 
lips, apparently studying with all their might, 
Anna Morris, who sat next to Nimpo, and was her 
“best friend,” whispered softly: 

“Do you know Helen Benson’s going to have 
her birthday party next Saturday ? ” 

“Is she, truly?” asked Nimpo. 


MRS. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK. 55 


“Yes; true’s I live and breathe and draw the 
breath of life,” said Anna; “and most all the girls 
are invited; I am.” 

“ I wonder if she isn’t going to invite me ! ” said 
Nimpo. 

“Oh, of course she will, only you wasn’t here 
this morning. She isn’t going to have any boys ; 
her mother won’t let her.” 

“I’m glad of that,” said Nimpo; “boys are so 
rude.” 

“I ain’t; I think it’s real mean.” 

At recess, the birthday party was the great sub- 
ject of conversation; and as soon as she saw 
Helen, Nimpo received her invitation. 

The invitations were not much like those which 
young ladies of twelve years get nowadays, en- 
graved or written as ceremoniously as their mam- 
mas’, enclosed in a dainty envelope, and sent by a 
servant. 

Helen just said to Nimpo: 

“0, Nimpo, I want you to come to my party 
next Saturday.” 

“Well, I will,” said Nimpo; and that was all. 


56 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


The great question, “ What are you going to 
wear ? ” came up next ; and that was as important 
to these girls, with only one Sunday dress, as it is 
to you with your many. 

Nimpo had no reply to make to the question. 
Her Sunday dress was ruined, and she did not 
know what she should do. 

The girls pitied her, and had many suggestions 
to make. One advised her to hunt up a white 
dress which she had outgrown, and let it down ; 
and another offered to lend her a dress of her 
older sister’s, which would only need tucking up 
and taking in under the arms. But Nimpo was 
too proud to accept any such offer. 

“If mother was home,” she sighed, as she 
walked slowly home, “she would get me a new 
dress; I know she would.” 

As she passed her father’s store, she went in, 
partly to see if any letters had come from her 
mother, and partly because she always did go in. 
Cousin Will happened to be in a pleasant mood, — 
he wasn’t always, — and so Nimpo told him about 
the party and her spoilt dress. 


MRS. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK. 57 


“ If mother was here, she’d get me a new one,” 
she ended. 

“ I dare say she would,” said Cousin Will, pity- 
ing the unhappy face of his little cousin, “ and I’ll 
tell you what I’ll do, Nimpo. If you can find any 
body to make your dress. I’ll take the responsi- 
bility of letting you have one out of the store.” 

“Oh! will you?” cried Mmpo. “Oh, I’ll be so 
glad 1 But who can I get ? ” she added, soberly, a 
moment later. The ladies in that primitive town 
made their own dresses. They didn’t have forty 
tucks or ruf9.es on them, I can tell you. 

“Couldn’t Sarah make it?” suggested Cousin 
Will. . 

“I don’t know; perhaps so; she does sew some- 
times; and come to think of it, she told me she 
used to sew for her old mistress. But she is away 
off at her sister’s.” 

“Not so very far, — only a mile through the 
woods. Kush knows where, for he and I went 
there once to get her.” 

“Well, I’ll go pver and see her now,” said Nim- 
po, excitedly. “Where’s Kush?” 


58 NIMPO’S TROUBLES. 

“ He’s out behind the store ! ” said Cousin Will. 

Nimpo soon found him. He was delighted with 
the proposal to go to Sarah’s. 

They started off at once, calling a moment at 
Mrs. Morris’ to get Anna to go, "too. 

Of course, all you young people know how de- 
lightful are walks in the woods; so I need not 
describe that part of it, only to say that they 
stopped so often to gather flowers, moss and 
other treasures, that when they got to Mrs. John- 
son’s, their arms and pockets and aprons were full. 

Mrs. Johnson, — Sarah’s sister, — lived, in a long, 
low cabin made of logs, in the woods. She had a 
husband and six or eight children, and the entire 
family had emigrated from the South a few years 
before. 

Sarah was busy, helping her sister spin, and was 
quite surprised to see Nimpo. 

“ How do you git on, boarding ? ” was her flrst 
question. 

“ Not very well,” said Nimpo ; “ but, Sarah, I’ve 
come to see if you can’t make me a new dress to 
go to Helen Benson’s party?” 


MJ^S. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK.' 59 

“La sakes now!” exclaimed Sarah. “Whar’s 
that new blue frock y’r ma done made fur ye ? ” 

“I spoiled it, — fell in the creek,” said Nimpo. 

“Go ’long, now! What ye s’pose y’r ma’ll say?” 

“I don’t know,” said Nimpo, penitently; “but 
will you make the dress? Cousin Will says I may 
have one, if you’ll make it.” 

“ Lor’ ! ye oughten’ter spile y’r cloze so. I 
don’t see how I kin do it, no ways.” 

“Yes, Sarah,” spoke up her sister; “make it fur 
the po’ child. I kin help ye.” 

Nimpo turned gratefully to the speaker, — a big 
woman, with a fat black baby in her lap. 

As Nimpo turned she saw a new attraction in 
an old basket in the corner, — a cat and a whole 
family of kittens. 

“Oh, how cunning!” she cried, running over to 
them; “may I take one? Oh, ain’t they lovely! 
How many are there?” 

Anna and Eush, who had stood by the door, 
feeling rather awkward, came in, followed by the 
little Johnsons. All crowded at once around the 
basket. 


60 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“They’re ’mazin’ peart kittens,” said Mrs. John- 
son; “take one along, if ye want it.” 

“ Oh, may I ? — thank you,” said Nimpo. “ I’ll 
be very glad to have one.” 

“ Y’r welcome ; they ain’t much ’count, no way : 
th’other gal kin have one, too, and the boy, — if 
he wants it.” 

There was great excitement for a few min- 
utes, looking over the family, and selecting the 
prettiest. 

“May we take them now?” asked Nimpo. 

“ Sure nuff, if ye like to take ’em,” replied Mrs. 
Johnson. 

“ Hadn’t ye better wait till y’r ma done come 
back? Maybe Miss Primkin don’t favor kittens,” 
suggested Sarah. 

“ 0, no ! ” said Nimpo and Kush, in the same 
breath; while Nimpo added, “She needn’t see 
them ; we’ll keep them up-stairs. Indeed, I want 
mine now ! ” And she hugged her kitten as 
though she never could be separated from it. 

When they were outside of the door, one of the 
Johnson boys stood there. He was one who had 


MRS. PRIMKINS PUTS NIMPO TO WORK. 61 


been to tlieir bouse to see Sarah, so they knew 
him a little. 

“Want some nuts?” he asked, showing all his 
white teeth. 

“Yes; have you got some?” asked Kush, ea- 
gerly. 

“Heaps, — done found ’em in a squirrel’s nest,” 
said the boy, leading the way to a shed. Rush 
followed, while the girls sat down on a log, and 
compared kittens, discussing their points with 
great interest. 

In the shed Rush saw a box that would hold 
half a bushel, nearly full of beech nuts, and every 
one shelled. They were as clean and neat as 
could be, and the boy filled all Rush’s pockets to 
the very top, and told him he would give him 
more the next time he came. 

Rush showed them to the girls with great glee, 
and offered them some, but they told him they 
preferred to shell their own nuts, and Nimpo said 
she thought it was abominable to steal away the 
winter food of a whole family. 

“Poor little squirrel!” said she; “think how 


62 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


long he had to work to take all those shells off, 
and you hoys to go and steal them away! I 
think it’s mean, so there I ” 

Eush replied, as well as he could with his 
mouth full of the delicious little sharp-cornered 
nuts, that she needn’t think the squirrel family 
would starve, because he happened to know that 
they had all been caught and served up in a 
pie at the Johnsons’, last Sunday. 


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MRS. PRIMKINS “CAN’T ABIDE CATS.”— Page 63. 



CHAPTER VIT. 


AN ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY. 

Now I must tell you about the kittens, for 
they have a history. 

To begin with, Mrs. Primkins lifted her hands 
in horror the moment she saw them. 

“ Lands ! what next ! Now you children needn’t 
bring any cats here ! I can’t abide cats.” 

“ They won’t trouble you any,” Nimpo hastened 
to say, “for we’ll keep them up-stairs and take 
care of them. And they’re not cats, — they’re 
only kittens.” 

“Well, mind I don’t see them down here,” said 
the neat housekeeper. “ I guess your ma won’t 
let you keep them, anyway.” 

“ I guess she will ! ” Rush broke in, indignant- 
ly. “She lets us have as many as we like. I 
had six, once, — big cats ! ” 


64 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“Well, then, she ain’t much like me!” said 
Mrs. Primkins, as they started up-stairs. 

“No; I’m happy to say she isn’t,” said Nimpo, 
feelingly, after the door was shut. 

The kittens made a difference in their bleak 
little rooms, somehow. Nimpo did not cry so 
often as before. They were so cunning, so play- 
ful, and so affectionate. 

They had their soft little bed in a snug box 
in a corner of the room, though I’m sure they 
never slept in it, for they went to bed with the 
children every night. 

Nimpo’s kitten was black and white, and was 
named “ Squitzimaning.” This was an original 
name, you see, and cost many hours of thought 
and study. Kush’s was a fine gray, and was 
called “Minzeyboo,” — another original name. 

These high-sounding names, however, were only 
for grand occasions; they were shortened into 
Squitz and Minzey for every-day use. 

They soon got used to their new quarters, and 
never thought of going down-stairs. 

They played in the bedrooms, and in the at- 


AN .ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY. 


65 


tic proper, which was between their rooms and 
Angusta’s. 

They were great pets with Kobbie, who called 
them “Mnpp Kitty,” because they were soft and 
furiy, and looked like mamma’s muff, which he 
was very fond of. 

“ Kitty got mnpp boots on,” he said to Nimpo, 
the first time he saw their little soft feet. He 
played with them for hours while Nimpo and 
Eush were away at school. 

Then they were wonderful kittens in other 
respects, as well as in their names; and their 
training and education were more wonderful still. 

Before the kittens had been in their attic home 
a week, one of them met with a dreadful accident. 
One day, after school, Nimpo rushed up-stairs, as 
usual, to see them. There was Minzeyboo fast 
asleep on the bed. She waked up, stretched out, 
yawned, and curled up her droll little red tongue, 
and then she was ready for a frolic. 

But Squitz was nowhere to be seen. Nimpo 
hunted under beds, behind trunks and boxes, 
and everywhere, but could not find her. Just 
5 


66 


NIMFO’S TROUBLES. 


as she was about to go down-stairs to see if 
she had strayed away, she thought she heard 
, a faint, far-off mew. 

Once more she searched everywhere; but no 
kitty. Then she heard the mew again, and this 
time she listened attentively. It came from the 
side of the attic, and to Nimpo’s horror, down be- 
tween the walls. 

You young folks who have played in attics 
know about these treacherous holes between the 
beams of the house, where the floor stops, and in 
which you have lost balls and tops and other 
treasures. They seem to be left there just for 
traps to catch things. 

Well, poor Squitzimaning, in playing around, 
had gone too near one of those dreadful holes, and 
there she was, away down at the bottom of it, on 
a level with the floor of the chambers below, prob- 
ably hurt by her fall, and perhaps half-starved. 

How to get her out, was the first question. By 
this time Kush had come, and both were in the 
deepest distress. 

“Of course we’ll have to break a hole in the 


AN ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY. 


67 


wall, down-stairs,” said Nimpo; and down they 
went to get the axe. 

“What do yon want with the axe?” asked 
Mrs. Primkins, as Kush went through the kitch- 
en, dragging that useful tool. 

“I was just coming to speak to you about it,” 
said Nimpo, who now appeared. “ Our kitty has 
fallen in between the walls, and we want to break 
a little hole, and get her out.” 

Nimpo spoke eagerly, but her heart died with- 
in her as she saw the look of indignation in Mrs. 
Primkins’ face. 

“ Break a hole in my wall for a paltry cat ! I 
guess so, indeed! Kush, you just take that axe 
back to the wood-shed, and be spry about it, and 
don’t you dare to touch my wall. Pretty doings, 
I declare I ” she went on, in her wrath. 

“What shall we do to get her out?” asked 
Nimpo, ready to cry. “ She’s so hungry, and I’m 
afraid she’s hurt.” 

“Let her die,” said Mrs. Primkins, savagely. 
“ She’ll be dead by morning, and I’ll throw some 
lime down to cover her up.” 


68 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


Nimpo turned away, too indignant to speak, lest 
she should say something awful, but on the way 
up-stairs she said to herself: 

“ The old hateful thing ! just as if her old wall 
is any thing to a poor kitty. I wonder how she’d 
like to be left in a hole to die ! I just wish she 
was there this very minute. I’d like to say, 
‘Never mind, Mrs. Primkins; we don’t want to 
break the wall. You’ll die to-night, and to-mor- 
row I’ll cover you up,’ — ugh ! ” 

Words failed her; besides, she had to set her 
wits to work to release poor Squitzimaning, who 
was still feebly mewing. 

“Kush,” she said, “you know how she claws 
things; I believe, if we can get something down 
to her, she’ll hold on and let. us draw her up.” 
“But what can we put down?” asked Rush. 

“ Let me see ; it must be something easy to take 
a tight hold of, — something that will catch her 
claws. Oh dear! I can’t think. I wish I was 
home; there are lots of things there.” 

“ I’ll tell you I ” shouted Rush, “ my tippet 1 ” 
“Yes, that’s just the thing,” said Nimpo; “but 


AN ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY. 


69 


that s at home; but wait, — I guess I’ve got my 
little knit scarf that grandma sent me. I brought 
it because I couldn’t bear to leave it.” And Nim- 
po rushed to her trunk, turned the things out in 
a pile on the floor, and near the bottom found the 
pretty blue and white scarf she was so fond of. 
She looked at it lovingly. 

“I hate to spoil it; but I can’t leave poor 
Squitz there.” 

The scarf was too short, of course, so they tied 
to one end of it a string, which Kush produced 
from his pocket. Then they tried to put it down, 
but it caught on evety rough place, and would 
not go far. 

“We must have something heavy on it to carry 
it down,” said Nimpo. So they cut a hole in it, 
and slipped inside a hair-brush. This time it did 
not stick. Letting it out slowly and carefully, 
not to crush Squitz, Nimpo sent down the whole 
length of string. When the 'brush touched the 
bottom of the hole, she let it rest a minute, 
and began to draw up. Kitty was mewing all 
the time now; she seemed to know they were 


70 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


trying to help her, and Nimpo kept talking 
to her. 

“ It seems heavier,” said she “ I do believe she’s 
on ! ” And jnst then they heard a mew so much 
nearer that they knew she was on. But while 
they were rejoicing, the little weight dropped off. 
Then came a sorrowful wail, and all was still. 

“ Oh, poor kitty ! oh, poor kitty ! ” cried Nimpo, 
bursting into tears. “ I’m afraid she’s killed.” 

They listened again, and in a moment heard 
her mew once more. So they let down the scarf 
the second time, and brought the runaway safely 
to the top. 

Nimpo seized her and covered her with kisses, 
then gave the poor little thing something to eat. 
This done, they never slept till they had found old 
newspapers, and stuffed up every hole in the attic. 

“How did you get your cat out?” asked Mrs. 
Primkins, at the tea-table. 

“I let down my scarf,” answered Nimpo; “she 
caught hold of it, and I pulled her up.” 

“What! that pretty blue and white scarf of 
yours?” asked Augusta. 


AN ACCIDENT IN THE FAMILY. 


71 


“Yes,” said Nirapo, shortly, for she felt rather 
sore on the subject of that scarf. Nothing but 
love for poor Squitz would have induced her to 
spoil it. 

“Wall, I declare!” said Mrs. Primkins, “I never 
in all my born days saw young ones so full of 
mischief! I don’t see how your ma can live with 
you. To think of your spoiling that nice scarf!” 

Nimpo’s heart swelled. 

“ I don’t think she feels it any great hardship,” 
she said; while Eush blurted out roughly: 

“ She likes us better’n you do.” 

Mrs. Primkins smiled grimly, but she said: 

“Wall, every body knows she was clear tuck- 
ered out with worry, and that’s why your pa took 
her away — ^to get a rest from you. But that’s 
nothing. Children don’t care if they do worry 
their mother into her coffin, so’s they have a good 
time.” 

This dreadful suggestion put a new thought 
into Nimpo’s head. She sat there very quietly, 
but she was busy thinking. 

“ I suppose we are a trouble to mother,” she 


72 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


thought. “I wonder if we do get into mischief 
all the time, and I wonder if that’s why she was 
so tired always. I remember father said, when 
she thought she couldn’t go, ‘ Mary, you must go ; 
you need the rest.’ And I wrote her such a com- 
plaining letter,” she thought, penitently. “ I’m 
sure she’ll worry if she thinks we’re having a hor- 
rid time here. I’ll write her another to-night.” 

Nimpo did not put even into thought a horrible 
possibility that made her shudder, suggested by 
Mrs. Primkins’ remarks — the possibility of really 
losing her mother. But she wrote to her mother 
that night, telling her about the kittens, and the 
accident,^ heroically saying not one word about 
how unhappy she was at Mrs. Primkins’. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. 

The long-expected Saturday came at last, and 
was a perfectly lovely day. In the morning Nim- 
po and Anna Morris walked out to Sarah’s to gef 
the new dress. It was all done, and was very 
neat, though it had not a ruffle or tuck on it. 
Sarah folded it nicely, and pinned it up in a 
newspaper, and Nimpo took it up to go. 

“Nimpo,” Sarah called after her, “come over 
some day and tell me ’bout the party, ’n I’ll done 
tell ye a story make y’r har stan’ up.” 

“Oh well, I will,” said Nimpo. 

“May I come too?” asked Anna eagerly, for 
the promise of a story was a great temptation 
to girls who did not have so many story books 
as you do. 


74 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“Yes, for all I care,” said Sarah. 

“We’ll be sure to come,” said both the girls, 
as they started oft‘ through the woods. 

“ Nimpo,” said Anna, when they had nearly 
reached home, “ why didn’t you come over to our 
house last night after school, as you said you 
would ? ” 

“ I had a headache,” replied Nimpo. “ I’ve had 
a headache every damp day since I’ve been at 
Mrs. Primkins’. I’m sure I don’t know why.” 

“ Why Nimpo Rievor ! ” exclaimed Anna, lifting 
up her hands in horror. “What made you say 
that?” 

“Because it’s true, and I’ll say it as often as 
I please, Miss Anna Morris.” 

Now Anna and Nimpo were either fast friends, 
or active enemies, all of the time. They were 
both impulsive and hasty, and they often “got 
mad” at each other, and were cool for days, not 
speaking, and making themselves as miserable as 
two quick-tempered girls can well be. Perhaps 
you’ve seen girls act so yourself. 

“Well, I’m sure my mother will not let me 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. 


75 


associate with you, if you talk like that,” said 
Anna spunkily. 

“Then you needn’t,” said Nimpo quickly. “I 
can find enough who will, as good as you are ! ” 

It was extremely foolish (wasn’t it now?). If 
they had only stopped a moment to explain, they 
would have found out that it was all a mistake. 
But they turned apart. Anna went home, and 
Nimpo stalked gloomily off, very unhappy in- 
deed, for Anna’s friendship and sympathy had 
been her greatest comfort in her trials at Mrs. 
Primkins’. 

As soon as Anna reached home, she went to 
her mother. “Mother,” said she, “Nimpo Eievor 
swears ! ” 

“What!” exclaimed Mrs. Morris, looking up. 

“ Nimpo said a swear word to me to-day,” Anna 
replied. 

“What did she say?” asked Mrs. Morris. 

Anna repeated what she had understood Nimpo 
to say, and her mother was much shocked. 

“Don’t say it again, Anna,” said she severely, 
“even to whisper it. And I forbid you to play 


76 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


vdth. her any more. I am afraid she is getting 
into bad ways since her mother went away. It 
ain’t good for young people to be left to their 
own devices.” 

Having uttered this sentiment, Mrs. Morris pro- 
ceeded with her work, and Anna went up-stairs 
to get ready for the party. 

This party would seem a droll affair to you 
girls of nowadays. The invited guests came at 
the sensible hour of two o’clock in the afternoon, 
so as to have a good long time to play. There 
was no dancing ; that being considered if not 
wicked, at least very frivolous. On the contrary, 
the girls sat around the room like so many sticks, 
for they all put on their stiff manners with their 
best dresses. After awhile Helen’s mother came 
in, and suggested that they should go out in the 
yard and play something. In a few moments 
they were eagerly discussing what they should 
play. 

“ Let’s play ‘ Pom, Pom, peel away ! ’ ” cried 
Nimpo, who delighted in lively games. 

“Oh no!” said Anna, who did not speak to 


THE BIRTHDAY TARTY. 


77 


Nimpo, “we play that every day at school. Let’s 
play ‘Crack the whip,’ and Helen shall he leader!” 

“Blind-man’s-buff!” suggested another, and 
after some talk, “Blind-man’s-buff” was decided 
upon. 

“Who’ll be IT?” asked Helen. Thereupon An- 
na — who seemed to put herself forward to make 
her slight of Mmpo more conspicuous, began to 
count them off thus: 

“Irey, Urey, Ickory, Ann, 

Philisy, Pholisy, Nicholas, John. 

Quevor, Qnavor, 

English Navor, 

Stringalum, Strangalum, John, Buck.” 

The last words fell to Helen, who had to blind, 
then the play began. 

But something was the matter with Nimpo, for 
she went and sat on the steps, and did not join in 
the game. She did not know herself what was 
the matter, but every body acted strangely. Not 
only did Anna look the other way when she came 
near, and flatly turn her back on her, but some- 


78 


NIMFO'S TROUBLES. 


thing seemed the matter with all the girls. Few 
of them spoke to her at all, and if they did, it was 
with a solemn face, and constrained manner, that 
Nimpo could not understand. 

“ I should think I’d been doing something aw- 
ful,” she said to herself “I’ll bet Anna Morris 
has been telling them some story. I don’t care. 
I guess I can stand it if they can,” she added de- 
fiantly, though her lip quivered a little, and she 
at once went on, “I won’t play with them any- 
way.” 

So she slipped quietly into the house, and into 
the now empty parlor, where she had noticed a 
book-case. Nimpo was fond of lively games, as 
I said, but she was just as fond of a story-book, 
and to open that book-case, and eagerly look 
over its contents, was almost as much pleasure 
as to play. 

The case was full, except the upper shelf where 
newspapers, inkstands, and such things were put. 
But they were not very attractive to a story lover. 
On the first shelf were “Brown’s Concordance,” 
and “Scott’s Family Bible,” in I don’t knowhow 


THE BIRTHDAY PARTY. 


79 


many brown volumes. Then came somebody’s 
sermons, the “Life of Summerfield,” and “Gra- 
ham’s Lectures.” 

She looked at the next shelf, there stood 
“ Barnes’ Notes,” “ Watts on the Mind,” “ The 
House I Live In” (which she peeped into and 
found it full of skeletons and such things), 
“Doddridge’s Eise and Progress.” But in a cor- 
ner of the last shelf, almost hidden, she found 
a little black covered book, the name of which 
she could not read on the back. She took it 
down, opened its yellow leaves, and read the 
title — 


Kasselas. 

How it found its way into that library, she 
knew not, nor cared ; what she did care for was a 
good quiet place in a window at the farther end 
of the hall, behind a long curtain, and there she 
curled up on the wide sill, and devoured the fine 
old print, revelling in the Happy Valley, forget- 
ting her troubles, the party, the games, every 
thing, in fact. At last she was aroused by the 


80 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


noise of the whole party coming into the house, 
and Helen’s voice asking, 

“Where’s Nimpo! — I thought she was in here! ” 

“I guess she’s ashamed, and gone home,” said 
Anna. 

Then Nimpo burst out. 

I don’t know why I should be ashamed, Anna 
Morris. I think you’re the one to be ashamed,” 
and then turning to Mrs. Benson, who was an 
amazed witness of this outbreak, she added, 

“I’ve been reading in here, Mrs. Benson. Do 
you care?” 

“Why no! I don’t care, — bless your heart! — ” 
said Mrs. Benson, “but girls usually prefer to 
play.” 

“Something’s the matter to-day,” said Nimpo, 
with a choked feeling in her throat. 

“What is it, my dear?” asked Mrs. Benson 
kindly. 

“ I’m sure I don’t know,” said poor Nimpo. “ I 
suppose Anna has told the girls some story, for 
she’s mad at me.” 

“What is it, Anna?” asked Mrs. Benson. 


THE BIRTHDAY TARTY. 


81 


“I don’t like to tell,” said Anna primly, “but 
my mother told me not to play with her, this 
very day.” 

“ I don’t believe it,” said Nimpo. 

“Well she did, anyway.” 

“But what did you tell your mother?” asked 
Mrs. Benson, who had been a girl herself, and 
knew how to make allowances. 

“ I told her that Nimpo said a bad word,” said 
Anna, in an awed whisper. 

“ Oh, I didn’t ! ” shouted Nimpo, angrily, “ never 
in my life, Mrs. Benson.” 

Mrs. Benson calmed her, and then made Anna 
tell her story, when of course, Nimpo had only to 
correct the mistake, and all was over. The girls 
crowded aroupd her, and Anna begged her par- 
don, which was as easy to her, as to “ get mad.” 
But Nimpo could only say, “ Oh Anna ! how could 
you ! I wouldn’t have believed it of you ! ” 

They soon went out to tea, which was a sen- 
sible meal of biscuit and butter, cold tongue, fruit 
and cakes ; and they all went home before seven 
o’clock. 


82 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“ Oh dear ! ” sighed Nimpo, as she walked home 
alone, for she was too much hurt by Anna’s con- 
duct to quite forgive her yet, “ every thing goes 
wrong since mother went. I never had so much 
trouble in my life.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


SARAH’S STORY. 

Kimpo did not forget Sarah’s promise of a story, 
I can tell yon, for her stories were wonderful 
things. To be sure, they were apt to be a little 
of the startling order, and generally ended with 
scaring her listeners half out of their wits, but 
that only made them more delightfully exciting. 

Nimpo and Rush had spent many an evening 
in the kitchen at home, listening to her story- 
telling. 

So a few days after the party. Rush, with 
Nimpo and Anna (who were good friends again), 
started off through the woods for Mrs. Johnson’s. 

After telling about the party, except the trouble 
with Anna, which she could not tell before her, 
they claimed the promised reward. 

The Johnson children getting a hint of the 


84 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


treat, began to crowd around, and Sarah began: 

“ Now, all you young uns must sit ’mazin’ still 
if I’m gwine to tell a story.” 

Nimpo and Anna were already occupying the 
only spare chairs. Kush sat on the wood-box, 
and the biggest Johnson girl on a keg, while 
the rest of the children squatted around on the 
floor, making a close semicircle about Sarah. 

Sarah’s virtue as a story-teller was in her face 
and manner. She was very black, with large 
rolling eyes, a very long face, a monstrous mouth, 
great white teeth, and long thin hands, which 
had an uncanny white look on the inside, as 
though the color were coming off 

Perhaps you don’t think hands have much to 
do with story-telling, but they had with Sarah’s, 
I can tell you. 

Quieting her audience with threats of “ daring 
’em all out the house,” she began in a low, sol- 
emn voice; 

“ Onct upon a time, way down in Ole Kentuck’, 
there lived a MAN! He was a-w-f-u-l rich, and 
had heaps an’ heaps o’ nice things in his dark 


SARAWS STORY. 


85 


cellar. Bottles an’ bottles o’ wine, bar’ls an’ bar’ls 
o’ cider, an’ lots an’ lots o’ hams, bar’ls an’ bar’ls 
o’ bacon, an’ bins an’ bins o’ apples, an’ jars an 
jars o’ sweetmeats, an’ boxes an’ boxes o’ raisins, 
an’ 0! piles o’ good things to eat, in that dark 
cellar.” 

Sarah paused to see the effect. Kush smacked 
his lips, and the eyes of the whole Johnson 
family rolled in ecstasy at the delightful pic- 
ture. 

“But he was a-w-f-u-1 stingy! Not a speck of 
all these yer goodies would he guv to a-n-y body. 
Lor’ I he al’us kep’ the key in his own pocket, an’ 
if he wanted ham for dinner, he went down in 
that yer d-a-r-k cellar, an’ cut a slice, nufif fur 
hisself An’ if he wanted wine, he jes went 
down an’ fotched a bottle, an’ al’us locked the 
do’ arter him, an’ n-e-v-e-r guv Sam the fastest 
speck 1 ” 

“Who’s dat ar?” asked one of the children. 

“You shet up! I’ll crack ye over the head, 
if ye don’t stop cuttin’ up sich shines!” Sarah 
replied. 


86 


NIMFO’S TROUBLES. 


The interrupter shrunk behind his mother, and 
felt snubbed. 

“Well, now,” Sarah went on, rolling her eyes, 
“that ar Sam was a po’ nigga, — the only nigga 
the stingy man had; an’ he was that stingy he 
never half fed him no way. He guv him a little 
corn-meal fur hoe cakes, an’ onct in a g-r-e-a-t 
while a leetle teeny bit uv a thin slice o’ bacon. 
So Sam got thinner an’ thinner, till he was near a 
shadder, an’ his fingers were 1-o-n-g and b-o-n-y.” 

And Sarah held up hers and clawed them in the 
air, till the children could almost see Sam and his 
bony hands. 

“Well, one day^this bad man had to go ’way off 
to the big city, an’ he hadn’t got nobody to leave 
in the house but jes Sam. So he done measured 
out jes so much corn-meal, an’ he said: ‘Now, 
Sam, I shall be gone away three days, an’ that’ll 
have to last ye till I get back. I’ll warrant ye’d 
like to jes eat it every scrap the fust day, an’ ax 
fur mo’, — it’s jes like ye, — but not a scrap do you 
get till I come back, fur I’ve locked every thing 
up. An’ if I find any thing out o’ order when 


SARAWS STORY. 


87 


I come back, I’ll, — I’ll, — wallop you; see if I 
don’t!!’ 

“ With that ar d-r-e-f-f-u-1 threat, the cruel 
mah’sr went off, ah’ left Sam all alone. Well, 
Sam went to clarin’ up the house, an’ when he 
went to hang up his mah’sr’s every-day cloze, — 
fur in course he wore his Sunday ones to go to 
town, — ^lie hars somethin’ hit agin the wall, an’ 
he thought to hisself : ‘ I’ll see what that ar is. 
Mebby mah’sr’s done leff a penny in his pocket. 
Oh, golly ! won’t I buy a bun ! ’ An’ he put his 
hand in the pocket, an’ what do you spose he 
found ? 


“THE CELLAR KEY ! ! ! ” 

Sarah, looking wildly at her listeners, said these 
thrilling words in an awful whisper, with a roll of 
the eyes and a dropping of the jaw, that made it 
still more horrible. 

‘“Oh, Lor’! here’s the key!’ said Sam to his- 
self; ‘what s-h-a-1-1 I do?’ An’ then he thought 
awhile. But, sakes ! chillen, ’pears like the Debil 


88 


N/MFO’S TROUBLES. 


is al’iis waitin’ fur chances, an’ so he popped into 
Sam’s head to jes go an’ look at the good things. 
‘ I won’t touch ary bit,’ said Sam, ‘ fur ole mah’sr'd 
Rnd out if one apple stem’s gone, — but I’ll look.’ 
That was the fust wrong step, chillen. Ye know 
how hard it is to detrain, if ye look at the things 
ye oughten’ter. Well, this yer onreverent nig- 
ga c-r-e-p-t down-stairs an’ unlocked the do’, an’ 
p-e-e-p-e-d in, — trem’lin’, tit to drop. He mose 
spected to see ole mah’sr behind a bar’l. But it 
was as s-t-i-1-1 as the grave, so he c-r-e-p-t in. 
There hung the 1-o-n-g rows o’ hams, — so juicy an’ 
sweet; and Sam went up an’ thought to hisself, 
‘Now, I’ll jes smell of one.’ So he smelled of it, 
an’ it was so nice seems like he couldn’t help jes 
touch it with his finger an’ clap his finger in his 
mouf, an’ then he did it agin. Ye know, chillen, 
how the ole Debil stan’s side o’ ye an’ helps ye 
on. Arter Sam had tasted onct or twice, he seen 
a t-e-e-n-y bit of a ham, way off in the fur corner, 
an’ he said to hisself, ‘ I don’t b’lieve ole mah’sr’ll 
ever miss that ar one, — ^’taint much ’count no way.’ 
An’, chillen, he was that hungry he couldn’t help 



SAM IN THE CELLAR.— Page 88 













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SARAWS STORY. 


89 


it, I do b’lieve. He snatched that ham, an’ he 
eat an’ eat an’ eat till he couldn’t stuff another 
moufful, an’ hid the rest behind a bar’l. Then he 
went on an’ went on till he come to the apples, 
— bins an’ bins o’ b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-1 red apples ! And 
he smelt of ’em, an’ then he eat an’ eat an’ eat till 
he couldn’t stuff another moufful. Then he went 
on an’ went on till he came to the shelf o’ sweet- 
meats, an’ he looked at ’em an’ smelt of ’em, and 
finally he snatched a jar, tore off the cover, an’ 
eat an’ eat an’ eat till he couldn’t stuff another 
moufful. 

“An’ then he couldn’t eat any more, sure nuff, 
an’ he went out an’ locked the do’. But he never 
had so much to eat in his life, an’ ’pears like he 
was stuffed so full he sort o’ lost his reasons. He 
went out an’ laid down on a bench in the sun, an’ 
he said to hisself, ‘ Lor’ I ain’t it nice to have nuff 
to eat fur onct; there’s poor Jim, I don’t s’pose he 
ever had nuff in his life.’ An’ then a v-e-r-y 
wicked idea come into his head. So, by’m by he 
got up an’ went over to Jim’s, — he, lived next do’, 
— an’ he tole him soon’s it was night to come 


90 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


over, an’ he tole him to fotch Sally. Sally was 
the house gal, a likely wench, an’ Sam liked her. 
An’ then he went to Tom’s and tole him to come 
too ; and finally, chillen, he ’vited quite a ’specta- 
ble company. Then he went home, an’ he went 
into the wood-shed an’ fetched in big sticks o’ 
wood, an’ he made up a mose won’erful fire, an’ 
swept out the big kitchen clean an’ nice, tho’ he 
wasn’t extra neat now, Sam wasn’t. ’Bout ten 
o’clock his company ’gan to come, the ladies all 
dressed up fine in some of their missis’ things, — 
low neck an’ short sleeves, an’ ribbins an’ white 
gloves. 0, go ’way ! yer don’t see no sich things 
up har! An’ the gemmen! Lor’, chillen, if ye 
could see the fine long-tailed blue coats, with but- 
tons shinin’ like marygolds, ye’d lalf fit to split 
y’r sides. 

“ Arter the company was all there, an’ talked a 
little ’bout the weather an’ sich topics o’ conversa- 
tion, he axed ’em, ‘Wouldn’t they like a little de- 
freshment ? ’ They was very polite, an’ said, ‘ No, 
thank ye,’ an’ ‘I’d ruther be ’xcused.’ But he 
went to the cellar, an’ he took’d out g-r-e-a-t plates 


SARAH^S STORY. 


91 


o’ apples an’ g-r-e-a-t pitchers o’ cider, an’ Tom 
helped him; an’ they fetched out ole mah’sr’s 
tum’lers, an’ he filled ’em all up; an’ he fetched 
out a w-h-o-l-e jar o’ sweetmeats, an’ a g-r-e-a-t 
dish o’ honey, an’ pickles, — oh. Lor’ ! such heaps 
o’ things! An’ all the time Sam said, so polite, 
‘ Ladies an’ gem men, he’p you’self, there’s mo’ in 
mah’sr’s cellar I ’ 

“An’ they did he’p theirselves, an’ they eat an’ 
eat an’ eat till they couldn’t stuff another moufful. 
An’ while they was all stuffin’, an’ Sam was gwine 
round with a bottle o’ wine in each hand, sayin’ so 
polite, ‘Ladies and gemmen, he’p you’self, there’s 
mo’ in mah’sr’s cellar,’ he happened to look up I 

“THERE WAS HIS MAH’SRII!” 

As Sarah said this she gave a horrible yell, 
and sprang forward, clutching in the air, as 
though to seize them ; and her spell-bound listen- 
ers screamed, and some of them fell over back- 
wards. 

Delighted with the effect of her tragedy, she 


92 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


waited till tliej gathered themselves up, with 
awe-struck faces, to listen to the end. 

She lowered her voice to a ghostly whisper. 

“The mah’sr sprang to get Sam, but Sam let 
out a screech nuff to raise the dead, an’ dared 
out thro’ the do’ ’s tho’ the Debil was arter him. 
The rest of the company slunk out ’thout axin’ 
to be ’xcused, an’ was in bed every soul of ’em 
in two minutes, an’ snorin’ fit to raise the roof 
Sam’s mah’sr run till he got done tired out, an’ 
then he dragged hisself home.” 

Sarah stopped. After waiting a few minutes. 
Bush asked, in a scared sort of a voice, what be- 
came of Sam.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes, shook her head, dropped 
her jaw, and said, slowly: 

“ He n-e-v-e-r was heard of agin.” 

“Bun away?” suggested Bush. 

“ S’pose so. Mebby up Norf this very day, f’r 
all 1 know.” And Sarah turned to her work. 

Her audience drew long breaths, and tried to 
resume their usual feelings, as though it were 
a common day. 


SARAH^S STORY. 


93 


But Sarah’s stories invariably lasted longer than 
other people’s. They seemed to do away with 
common every-day life, and the children couldn’t 
get over them. 

But they were all the more delightful for that; 
and Nimpo, Anna, and Kush took their leave at 
once, and walked home very quickly through the 
woods, which were now rather dusky, looking 
around nervously at every sound, half expecting 
to see the bony, half-starved Sam, or his fierce 
master. 

But they were not afraid! Of course not, — 
they laughed at the idea of such a thing, — only 
Sarah’s stories always seemed so real. 


CHAPTEK X. 


THE BATTERING-RAM CLUB. 

The idea of a battering-ram came from a picture 
in tbe big Bible. That was the only picture-book 
Eush was allowed to look at on Sunday, at Mrs. 
Primkins’, and while poring over its curious, old- 
fashioned prints one day, a bright idea popped 
into his head, and before night he had planned 
the whole. The first thing in the morning he 
started out for Johnny Stevens. 

“Johnny,” he began as soon as he found him, 
“I’m going to make a battering-ram.” 

“A what?'' exclaimed Johnny. 

“A battering-ram. I saw a picture of one in 
the big Bible yesterday. I know where there’s 
some old bed-slats, and I know just how I can 
make it.” 


THE BATTERING-RAM CLUB. 


95 


“But what do you want it for?” asked John- 
ny, who did not understand. 

“Oh, it’s splendid to play with — to knock 
things, you know; and I’ll have Johnny Barston 
in it and some other hoys,” he went on enthusi- 
astically, “ and we’ll have trainer caps and things, 
and I’ll be the captain of it.” 

“What’ll I be?” asked Johnny, dazzled by this 
gorgeous picture. 

“Oh, you’ll be first rammer,” said Kush; “come 
on up to our house, we’ll make it up in our play 
room in the barn.” 

When they reached the barn, they at once hur- 
ried up the ladder, and behind some boards they 
found the bed-slats. 

“Let’s see,” said Kush, pulling them over, “I 
want the thickest one for the ram. That’s the 
thickest,” he went on, laying one down on the 
floor, “and these three’ll do for arms.” And he 
laid them across the first one, about a foot apart, 
thus leaving about two feet of the ram without 
arms. 

“There!” said he, “when I get those arms fixed 


96 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


on, you see the boys’ll take hold of them and run 
lickity-split, and knock things with that end, — 
Bang ! ” 

“Oh, yes!” said Johnny. 

“Now I want the bit and brace.” And a vig- 
orous search was at once instituted for that useful 
tool. Kush was not discouraged, because he was 
used to looking up his tools, since he generally 
dropped them when he was done with them 
just wherever he happened to be, and there 
they lay fill he wanted them again. 

This happened ever so long ago, you know. 
I don’t suppose boys nowadays have such a fool- 
ish habit. 

When the tools were found, and Kush had 
bored six holes — one through the middle of each 
arm and three through the main piece — and when 
he had sharpened up his “Barlow” knife, and 
made pegs for the holes, it was evening. After 
tea the boys retired to their homes, and made 
seven three-cornered hats out of old newspapers, 
which they called “trainer caps.” 

The next morning the work of selecting re- 


THE BATTERING-RAM CLUB. 


97 


emits began, and before noon five of the favor- 
ite boys of the neighborhood were formed into 
a club, bearing the formidable name of “ Batter- 
ing-Kam Avengers,” with Kush as captain. 

It was strictly a secret society, the oath of 
initiation being formally administered to each 
one separately by Rush taking him into the car- 
riage-house, shutting the door, and making him 
say, “I won’t never tell. True as I live and 
breathe and draw the breath of life.” 

The eager candidate agreed to this, and was 
then allowed to go up the ladder, and another 
boy admitted. 

All the rest of the day, in the secrecy of the 
barn chamber, the new club practiced with the 
ram', learning to obey the words of command, 
being initiated into the mysteries of “Charge,” 
“ Retreat,” “ Right Wheel,” and “ Left Wheel,” 
and a serious time they had with the last two, 
for none of them was very sure which was right 
and which left. 

However, by night the captain thought they 
would do to make a sally. So when it was dark, 


98 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


while their mothers thought they were playing 
an innocent game of “I spy,” they assembled 
quietly at the barn, brought down the precious 
ram, took their places, and started out. 

The first charge they made was at the gate, 
which a band of avengers could not be expected 
to condescend to open. The captain marched in 
front, with drawn sword (a wooden one that he 
had made himself). When he came to the gate 
he stepped one side, and said, in a voice of com- 
mand, 

“ Kammers, charge ! ” 

They charged. The latch gave way, and the 
band strode proudly out. 

The next charge was at the gate of a boy who 
was always at enmity with the captain. First 
peering around to see that he did not lurk in 
some corner, the order was given, “ Eight wheel, 
charge ! ” 

The position of the gate helped their tardy 
knowledge of right and left. They obeyed, and 
the latch holding better than the first, the hinges 
gave way, and the gate fell with a crash. 


THE BATTERING-RAM CLUB. 


99 


The club forgot their dignity and took to their 
heels. Around the next corner, however, they 
rallied, and, finding they were not pursued, they 
felt their courage rise with the success. On 
they went, around the village, charging against 
gates, and fences, and wood-sheds. After doing 
considerable mischief, sometimes to the fence, and 
sometimes to themselves when the instrument 
slipped between the boards and let them crash 
against the fence, the proud captain ordered them 
to charge against a tree. 

It was to be the last charge, and they went at 
it with spirit, going back some feet and advancing 
on a run. The ram hit the tree with such force 
that every boy pitched forward, and every peg 
that held the arms snapped off There was a 
crash, a general tumble, a few smothered cries, 
two or three bloody noses, and one or two 
smashed hats. But the battered club picked it- 
self up, carried home the fragments, and went off 
to bed. 

The next day damages were repaired, and the 
next night the club was out again as good as new. 


100 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


This went on for a week, the boys’ parents 
never suspecting them, and the village in a fer- 
ment to discover the cause of broken gates, boards 
off of fences, school-house doors broken in, bar- 
rels upset, etc., etc. At last a watch was set, and 
threats were heard — not loud, but deep — of ven- 
geance on the culprits when found. 

And they were caught, not by any of the par- 
ties of big boys who lay in wait behind fences 
and big trees, nor by the fierce dogs which were 
let loose in yards, nor yet in the trap which old 
Mr. Steele set by his front gate, but by Nelly Ben- 
son, who was sitting on the steps of the house. 
Hearing them coming up the walk, she listened, 
suspected from their whispers that some ’mis- 
chief was brewing, and just quietly walked up 
to them. 

She seized the brave captain. He never thought 
of resisting, but went with her, two or three of 
the club following, while the rest ran away. Nel- 
ly was alone in the house, and the boys owned up 
to the whole performance, and she promised not 
to tell if they would agree to break up the club. 


THE BATTERING-RAM CLUB. 


101 


The valiant band promised, and sadly took their 
way home. 

“ What shall we do with the ram ? ” asked 
J ohnny Barston. 

“ Come over to our house in the morning, and 
we’ll have a bonfire, and burn her up,” said Kush. 
“Nobody else shall have her if we can’t.” 

The next morning a party of seven assembled 
in the back end of the garden, brought out the 
mischievous ram, chopped it to pieces, built a fire 
of chips, piled on th^ ram, and stood and saw it 
burn. Just before the end Rush proceeded sol- 
emnly to the barn chamber, brought out a pile 
of torn and dusty hats, laid them sadly on the 
pile, and finished the tragedy with his precious 
wooden sword. 

That act of heroic sacrifice awed the assembled 
club. They stood in silence and saw the painful 
labor of hours turn to ashes, and then — feeling 
like very good boys indeed, fully intending to 
stay at home evenings, mind their mothers, and 
never play marbles for keeps — they turned away. 

“ I’m glad that’s done with,” said Rush, with a 


102 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


sigh of relief; “now we sha’n’t have any more 
trouble about that.” 

“What shall we do next?” asked Johnny. 

“ Let’s sit down on the steps and talk about it,” 
said Kush. 

So down they sat, and discussed in eager whis- 
pers various plans for “ fun,” till, their spirits ris- 
ing with the talk, Kush suddenly burst out with : 

“Let’s have another Battering-Kam Club! What 
do you say ? ” 

“ Agreed ! agreed 1 ” shouted the boys. Only 
Johnny said: 

“ But we promised we wouldn’t.” 

“No, we didn’t!” said Kush, “we promised to 
break up the club, and burn up our things, and so 
we did. Besides we won’t go out into the street 
any more, we’ll set up a scarecrow, or something 
out in the lot, and we’ll batter that in the day- 
time.” Their scruples were slight, and so the 
new club was organized before the ashes of the 
old one were cold. 

“ Isn’t it too bad I burnt up my sword ? ” said 
Kush, as he and Johnny started for Mrs. Primkins’. 


CHAPTER XL 


RUSH’S CIRCUS. 

The next plan that Rush got up — for somehow 
the second battering-ram club never amounted to 
much, was a circus. For a week he and Johnny 
Stevens had been full of mystery. Secret consul- 
tations had taken place with Ximpo, suspicious 
bundles had been smuggled out of the house, and 
strange and unearthly sounds had been heard is- 
suing from the barn chamber — not only of saw- 
ing and hammering, which might legitimately be 
supposed to be accessory to the night’s prepara- 
tions — but groans, screams, barks, and other un- 
accountable noises. 

Rush had not only worked early and late in 
that mysterious room, with Johnny to watch the 
entrance, and shout the moment any one came 


104 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


toward the barn, but he had emptied his tin sav- 
ings-bank, made stolen visits to a friendly house- 
painter, confiscated every bit of rope about the 
yard, lost every pair of scissors in the house, and 
grown so important with his great secrets that an 
ordinary mortal could hardly live with him. 

The great day at last arrived, and as soon as 
he had swallowed his breakfast Kush started for 
the house, to prepare for the “Grand Entree,” 
which a circus always makes, shouting to Nimpo 
that the procession would go by in ten minutes. 

Sure enough, almost as soon as Nimpo and Rob- 
bie reached the house, strange music was heard 
from the barn, and in a moment, there appeared 
the procession. 

First came Kush, dressed in a suit of white, 
with stripes of red (flannel) down the sides of 
the pantaloons, sewed on with big white stitches. 
A red sash, also of flannel, was tied around his 
waist and held a formidable - looking wooden 
sword. Gay paper epaulets on his shoulders, 
and a “trainer cap” of newspaper, with a per- 
fectly gorgeous paper tassel sticking out of the 


RUSHES CIRCUS. 


105 


point on top. He was marching proudly at the 
head, playing vigorously on a mouth-organ (if 
that’s the name of it). 

Next to him, and kept in the ranks by a string 
in his hand, came Lion, a good-natured sheep- 
dog, belonging to Johnny Stevens, decorated with 
a harness of red flannel over his shaggy black 
coat. He was doing duty for twenty or thirty 
pairs of horses in drawing a grand circus wagon. 

This wagon was the darling of Rush’s heart, 
and the result of nights of contriving and days 
of toil. It was made in imitation of a gorgeous 
circus chariot, and the two sides were intended 
to represent dragons. To be sure, they were not 
exactly like the pictures of that monster; but then 
you know dragons lived so long ago (before the 
days of naturalists) that one can’t be positively 
sure of their shape. Rush had made a careful 
copy, as well as he could remember, of the drag- 
ons composing the body of a wagon which had 
passed through the town some time before. He 
had then drawn it on two thin boards, roughly 
sawed them out, and then painfully and labori- 


106 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


ously cut them down to shape with his Barlow 
knife. 

I don’t know what sort of knives you boys of 
nowadays have, but in those times, when a boy 
became clamorous for a knife of his own, careful 
mothers provided him with what they called “ a 
nice Barlow knife,” and felt no fears of resulting 
cuts. The fact is, the Barlow knife was made in 
the interest of timid parents, and its great virtue 
was its harmlessness. It wasn’t made to cut, and 
it couldn’t be induced by any persuasion (or grind- 
stone) to do any thing more than “hack.” 

Well, Johnny had patiently turned the grind- 
stone for hours together to sharpen that knife, 
and Rush had hopefully worked away for days 
on his two dreadful dragons ; and at last in some 
shape they were finished, nailed to the sides of 
his little wagon, and painted a fiery red, with 
terrific-looking white eyes. 

Riding in the wagon and beating a drum 
(namely, an old tin pan), was little Harry Bean, 
who was one of the performers and on this oc- 
casion represented the band. Last, but not least. 


RUSHES CIRCUS. 


107 


came Johnny, carrying a banner, bearing some 
strange device, and playing as well as he could, 
on a dressing-comb, wrapped in paper. 

The procession moved around the yard and 
garden several times, stopping now and then 
to announce to a boy who leaned over the fence 
to look at the display that the circus would be- 
gin at the barn at two o’clock that afternoon. 
Admittance, two pins. 

- At the stated hour quite a party collected in 
the exhibition room. It was a curious room, over 
the carriage-house. When the barn was full of 
hay this place was all filled ; but as the hay low- 
ered it got empty, and then it was swept out 
and taken possession of by the boys as their 
play-room, till it was filled again. On one side 
was a big door, to put the hay through, which 
answered for windows; and on the other was a 
great pile of hay, now down below the floor of 
the room. 

The audience was limited to those who could 
climb — for the only entrance was by means of a 
ladder made of strips nailed across two of the 


108 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


side-timbers of the barn — and it consisted of half 
a dozen small boys, Nimpo and Kobbie, and Anna 
Morris. 

The spectators were seated on a bench, made 
by putting a board across two pails, and two bro- 
ken-backed chairs. Before the back corner of the 
room was hung a curtain, made of an old-fash- 
ioned patch-work quilt; and, owing to the diffi- 
culty of drawing it up, the actors came out from 
behind it to perform. The stage was divided 
from the audience room by a clothes-line stretched 
across. 

Kush stood at the hole in the floor, which served 
instead of a door, and took the pins. When the 
last one had arrived, he stepped over the rope and 
retired behind the curtain; and the show began. 

The flrst thing was a dance. Kush stationed 
himself on one side with his mouth-organ, and 
began to play. Then Johnny jumped out from be- 
hind the curtain, dressed in an old plaid suit, 
which was very tight and had the legs cut off 
in points very short, and the sleeves cut in the 
same way. There was a long stretch of white 


RUSHES CIRCUS. 


109 


leg between those abbreviated pantaloons and his 
shoes and stockings and a very thin, white arm 
above the black little hands. 

This extraordinary costume was greeted with a 
great laugh by the audience, in which he joined 
so heartily that it was not till severely expostu- 
lated with by Kush, who threatened to break up 
the show, and by Nimpo who said she would go 
into the house, that he composed himself enough 
to proceed. Rush began the inspiriting music 
again. Johnny threw himself around in a fantas- 
tic way, waving his arms, rolling his head about, 
and throwing his thin legs as high as he could, 
and altogether looking more like an escaped ma- 
niac than a circus performer. He ended with a 
grand finale of standing on his head, with his long 
legs stuck up like two poles, which was certain- 
ly a new feature in stage dancing. Having fin- 
ished his performance, he turned a summerset, and 
disappeared behind the curtain, nearly jerking it 
down, too, by the way. 

There was a few moments of energetic whisper- 
ing behind the curtain, and then came out Rush 


110 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


and Lion, while Johnny peeked out through a 
hole. Lion was a very knowing dog. He could 
play dead and speak when told to ; and he would 
demurely hold a bit of bread on his nose till Kush 
counted three (if he counted fast), and then give 
it a toss and snap it up in a second. This brought 
down the house, and was repeated till every bit 
of bread was used. 

In the next act Lion was announced to be a 
real wild lion; and Rush struck various attitudes 
with him, such as he had seen Herr Driesbach do. 
First he took him by the collar and stood with 
his legs very far apart, and an arm raised with a 
club, as though about to beat his brains out. He 
put on a look of such fierceness that Lion, though 
he had practiced for a week, was struck with ter- 
ror to the bottom of his doggish heart, and he 
dropped his tail and crouched down in the most 
sheepish way. But, if the beast failed, there was 
no failure in Kush. He held his position till his 
legs ached, and then suddenly assumed another, 
while the audience murmured its delight. 

After the attitudes came another performance 


RUSHES CIRCUS. 


Ill 


by Johnny — a speech. He came on to the stage 
with a sling, holding a small stone, and, standing 
near the edge of the room where the hay was, he 
began : 


“Little David with a sling, 

At great Goliath he did fling.” 

Whereupon he slung his stone with great force 
toward an imaginary giant, away up above his 
head. 


“Hit Goliath in the head. 

Great Goliath fell down dead.” 

At which his arm dropped and he fell over the 
edge on to the hay. 

The effect was great, onty marred by a subdued 
giggling that came from the hay. In another 
minute Johnny crept up the ladder and tip-toed 
across the room to the curtain, and the discreet 
audience pretended not to see him. 

The next scene was ground and lofty tumbling 
on the part of Eush and little Harry Bean, who 
was airily attired in a pair of short white drawers 


112 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


and his short-sleeved white shirt. Eush lay down 
on his back (to the serious detriment of his white 
clothes), stuck up one arm, and Harry carefully 
laid himself across his hand. After holding him 
there a few seconds, Eush put him down, and 
then held him the same way on his two feet. 
Then he got up, and, after arranging Harry in an 
undignified squat in the middle of the stage, he 
retired to the further end, swung his arms two or 
three times to get a start, counted “ one to begin, 
two to show, three to make ready, and four to 
go,” and, starting full force, ran and gave a flying 
leap over Harry’s head. This was considered a 
masterpiece, and raised loud applause and cries 
of “ Do it again ! ” Then Harry was dragged be- 
hind the curtain by Johnny, against his will; and 
Eush turned a handspring — and you know what 
that is. 

The last act was a sham fight between Eush 
and Johnny. They came out from opposite sides 
of the curtain. When they saw each other, their 
eyes glared (though Johnny, as usual, smothered 
a giggle), and, shouting fiercely between shut 


RUSWS CIRCUS. 


113 


teeth the words “ villain ! ” and “ traitor-r-r ! ” they 
rushed together. The struggles were fierce, and 
resulted in several wholly unanimous tumbles, 
when the words “don’t!” and “you hurt!” were 
heard in low but earnest tones, and the circus 
was announced as done. The audience climbed 
down the ladder and went home, and Rush (feel- 
ing that the circus had been a perfect success) 
told Johnny in confidence that he was going to 
get up a panorama. 


CHAPTEK XII. 


NIMPO MAKES CAKE. 

Nimpo had by this time become accustomed to 
the blue-edged dishes at Mrs. Primkins’, but they 
lived much more plainly than her mother did, and 
she was now very tired of corned beef, and boiled 
potatoes, bread and milk and dried-apple sauce. 
Every day she was thinking how she should like 
this or that, and gradually a great idea took form 
in her head, namely, to go to the old house and 
bake some cake. To be sure, she had never made 
any cake, but there was her mother’s receipt book, 
and she knew she could follow directions. 

Kush was delighted with the plan. So, one 
morning, instead of going to school, they took 
Kobbie and went down to the house. 

Nimpo walked slowly, with Kobbie, while Kush 
ran on ahead to the store to get the key. 


NIMPO MAKES CAKE. 


115 


“Now, Kush, you make a fire,” said Nimpo, as 
soon as they were in the house, “while I hunt 
up the receipt book.” So Robbie brought in chips, 
and Rush brought in wood, and Nimpo went up- 
stairs to look for the book. 

“What kind would you make?” she shouted 
down-stairs to Rush, who was blowing away at 
the fire. 

“Oh, any kind, so it’s good and rich,” called 
Rush. “What kinds are there?” 

Nimpo came down and began to read. 

“Rich cakes, — of course, we want it rich; we 
have enough poor stuff at Mrs. Primkins’.” 

“ Of course,” assented Rush. 

“ ‘ Old Hartford Election Cake.’ That doesn’t 
sound good, besides, it takes five pounds of flour, 
and brandy,” said Nimpo, running her eye over 
the receipt. 

“Read the next,” said Rush. 

“‘Raised Loaf- Cake.’ That takes one pound 
of flour, — let me see. ‘Mrs. H.’s Raised Wed- 
ding Cake.’ That takes yeast, and seven pounds 
of flour. ‘Fruit Cake or Black Cake — ’” 


116 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“ Oh, make that ! ” interrupted Kush. “ That’s 
splendid; and we can have as much as we want. 
Mother never lets us have but a little bit of a 
piece.” 

“Well,” said Nimpo, reading, “this takes ‘one 
'pound 'white sugar, three-quarters pound of butter, 
one 'pound flour, sifted' That sounds easy.” She 
went on: “ ^Twelve eggs, two pounds raisins, stoned;' 
but I guess they’ll do without. I don’t care for 
the stones.” 

“Nor I,” said Rush. 

“‘Tioo pounds citron ,' — ^they’ve got that at the 
store, — '‘quarter ounce of cinnamon, nutmegs and 
cloves,' — we’ve got all those in the spice-box, — 
‘ one tvine-glass of ^ ivine, and one of brandy,' — we 
haven’t got those,* and, you know. Cousin Will 
won’t give us any.” 

“Won’t cider do?” asked Kush. “He’ll give 
me some, maybe.” 

“I guess so. Well, I’ll make that. Let me see 
what I want. You must go down to the store 
and get — a dozen eggs, — we’ve got raisins in the 
store-room, — cider and butter and citron. If Cous- 


NIMPO MAKES CAKE. 


117 


in Will asks yon wkat you want it for, tell him 
I’m making cake.” 

“Well,” said Eush, “eggs, cider, butter, and 
citron. Eobbie, do you want to go, too?” 

Eobbie did. So they went off, and Mmpo pro- 
ceeded to collect her materials. 

First she brought out the scales and the earth- 
en dish that her mother made cake in. Next 
she weighed the flour and the raisins. Then she 
brought out the spice-box, but she couldn’t weigh 
a quarter of an ounce, so she had to guess at 
that. 

As soon as Eush came in with the things, 
she began to mix them, carefully following the 
book. 

“Eub the butter and sugar together,” she read. 
So she weighed the butter and sugar, put them 
in the dish, and took the wooden spoon her 
mother used for cake. They wouldn’t mix very 
well. She couldn’t make it look like her moth- 
er’s cake. But after working till her arms ached, 
she thought it would “do,” so she proceeded to 
put in the rest. 


118 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“Eggs come next. I must break them and 
separate the whites and yolks.” So she took up 
one and broke it. She broke it too much, in fact, 
for the yolk ran out, and she couldn’t separate it 
from the white. 

“ I don’t care,” she said. “ I don’t believe it’ll 
make any difference, anyway; they all go in just 
the same.” 

So, feeling sure that she had exploded at least 
one humbug in cake-making, she broke all the 
eggs into a dish, and began beating them. Soon 
her shoulder began to ache; then she declared 
she “ didn’t believe it mattered if it wouldn’t 
stand up as mother made it,” — and in went the 
eggs with the butter and sugar. 

“Then add part of the flour,” said the receipt. 
So she put in a few handfuls. 

“ ‘ The spice, the whites of the eggs,’ — those 
are in already,” said Nimpo, — “ ‘ the remainder of 
the flour, and the wine and brandy.’ ” 

Nimpo threw in the rest of the flour, and a 
tumblerful of cider, — she had no wine-glass, — and 
stirred all up together. 


NIMPO MAKES CAKE. 


119 


“The book says, ‘first pour in the pans, and 
then add the raisins and citron and currants.’ 
Oh, I forgot the currants,” said Nimpo; “I guess 
I won’t put them in.” 

“Oh, yes, do ! ” said Kush. “ I’ll get them.” 

“ Well, they’re in a glass jar on the second shelf 
in the store-room,” said she, “ and be careful you 
don’t let it fall.” 

Kush soon had the jar. 

“How many do you want?” he asked. 

“ Two pounds,” said Nimpo ; “ And — oh ! they’ve 
got to be ‘carefully cleaned.’” 

“ How do they clean ’em ? Do you know ? ” 

“Yes; I’ve seen Sarah — wash them.” 

So Kush weighed out the currants, and put 
them into a pan to wash, — eating all the time, — • 
while Nimpo sliced the citron, — eating, too, — and 
got the two square cake-pans to bake it in. 

“ The book says, ‘ line the pan with paper,’ but 
I sha’n’t do that; I don’t see any use in* it. Kush, 
don’t eat up all those currants!” 

“No, I won’t,” said Kush, beginning now to 
wash them. 


120 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


In a few minutes he announced them all ready 
and brought the pan to Nimpo. It was half full 
of currants, covered with very dirty water. 

“ Oh dear ! you must pour off the water,” said 
Nimpo. 

Eush took it over to the sink and began to pour 
out the water. 

“ Nimp, the currants go too ! ” he called. 

Nimpo hurried over there, but a good many 
currants were swimming around in the sink. She 
snatched the pan and poured what was left into 
the cake-pan. 

“I believe they dry them in a cloth, but I 
haven’t time, and besides I haven’t any cloth, and 
I don’t see any difference anyway,” she said, as 
she stirred them in. 

They were very wet, and they made the cake 
look odd and sticky. But Nimpo was getting 
tired now, so she poured it into the two pans and 
hurried it into the oven. 

“Get some more wood, Kush,” she said. 

“ Give me the pan to scrape,” cried Kush. 

“ I’ll give you part, and Kobbie must have part,” 


NIMPO MAKES CAKE. 


121 


she answered. “But, Bush,” she cried, excitedly, 
“that cake must bake four hours!” 

“Oh, my! What for?” asked Rush. 

“I don’t know. The book says so; but 1 know 
mother don’t bake cake so long as that. I don’t 
believe the old book is right.” 

“Nor I,” said Rush. “We can tell when it’s 
done; can’t we?” 

“I guess 1 can,” said Nimpo. “Now, let’s make 
up a good fire to bake it, and go out and get 
cool; it’s dreadfully hot in here.” 

Out they went, swung on the big swing, played 
in the barn, and after awhile they thought of the 
cake. 

“Oh I wonder if the cake is done!” said Nim- 
po, and they went in to see. 

If the cake wasn’t done, the fire was. So they 
made up another fire, and looked at the cake. It 
looked brown enough outside, but when Nimpo 
ran a broom splint into it — as she had seen her 
mother do— she saw that something was wrong. 

“No, it isn’t done inside,” said she, “though 
I’m sure it is outside.” 


122 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Well, they went off to play again; and the next 
time they went into the house they concluded that 
the cake was done. It didn’t stick much to the 
broom splint, and certainly the outside was a great 
deal too brown. 

Nimpo took the loaves out, and in trying to 
shake them free from the pans, one of them broke 
in two. 

“Never mind, we can eat this one now,” said 
Nimpo, “and keep the other to take back with 
us.” 

It didn’t look exactly like mother’s black cake, 
nor did it taste quite right. But then it was very 
rich, Nimpo said, “and, anyway, it was good.” 

So they ate as much as they liked, though Bob- 
bie, wise little fellow, would take but one taste. 

They interspersed the entertainment with rai- 
sins and currants that they had left on the table. 

All this had taken some hours, and now it was 
time to go back to Mrs. Primkins’. 

“What shall we do with the dishes?” asked 
Rush. 

“Oh, we’ll leave them to-night. I’m too tired 


NIMPO MAKES CAKE. 


123 


to wash dishes; besides, I hate it. Sarah’ll wash 
them when she comes.” 

So, after brushing the flour from their clothes 
as best they could, they carefully wrapped their 
precious cake in a napkin, and returned to Mrs. 
Primkins’, Nimpo stealing softly up-stairs with 
the cake under her apron. 

She reached the room safely, and locked the 
delicious loaf in her trunk, ready for another 
feast. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


RUSH MAKES HIS WILL. 

Neither of the children wanted any tea, and 
Mrs. Primkins was not particularly surprised, for 
they had a way of going to the store and eating 
so much trash that they didn’t care for bread and 
milk. 

They played with the kittens awhile, and then 
went to bed. 

About eleven o’clock, when every thing had 
long been still in the house, Nimpo was wakened 
from a horrid dream by hearing Rush call her. 
She got up and went to his door. 

“What do you want. Rush?” she asked in a 
whisper. 

“Oh, come in here,” he cried. “ I’m awful sick, 
Nimpo. I know I’m going to die. Oh, dear ! oh. 


RUSH MAKES HIS WILL, 


125 


dear ! can’t you do something for me ? ” And he 
doubled up and groaned and cried again. 

“ Where is the pain ? ” asked Nimpo, half scared 
out of her wits, as she added, desperately, “I don’t 
know what to give you, and I haven’t got any 
thing if I did.” 

Here Kush groaned and cried afresh, and Nim- 
po sat down on the foot of the bed, and cried 
with him. 

She was afraid to go after the doctor, and 
neither of them for a moment thought of going 
to Mrs. Primkins. They regarded her only in 
the light of an enemy, and that she could have 
common sympathy with their sulFerings never 
occurred to the two miserable children. 

Between the attacks of pain. Rush was per- 
fectly easy, and I suspect he rather enjoyed — in 
his easy times — being the hero of the hour, though 
in a mournful sort of a way. 

“ Nimpo,” he said at last, “ I want to give away 
my things before I die. What would you give 
to mother?” 

“I don’t know,” said Nimpo, solemnly. 


126 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“Oh, I know; I’ll give her my pretty box, that 
I got last Christmas; I know she’ll like it. And 
Eobbie can have my sled, — you know how he 
used to like it.” 

“Yes,” sobbed Nimpo. Just then the pain came 
on again, and poor Eush writhed and twisted and 
groaned till it was over. 

“ You may have my books, Nimpo,” he moaned, 
when he felt better again, “ and, oh ! I wish you’d 
give my bow and arrows to Johnny Stevens — he 
always wanted a bow ; they’re in the shed. And 
— and — my knife ” 

But his knife was too precious to part with, 
even on his death-bed, so he added: 

“Well, I won’t give away my knife yet.” 

After that, his sufferings engrossed him until, 
at last, he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Then 
Nimpo, with a throbbing head, crept off softly to 
her own bed, where she* lay tossing, in a high 
fever, until daylight. 

Perhaps they would never have known what 
was the matter that night, but for the repugnance, 
they both felt for the remaining fruit-cake. Nim- 


mrSH MAKES HIS WILL. 


127 


po took it out the next day, but Kush said it made 
him sick to look at it, and she couldn’t touch a 
morsel herself. So she broke it into little bits and 
threw it out of the window ; and I hope the birds 
knew enough to let it alone. 

The next day Kush was not able to go to school, 
so he went down to the store and dozed on Cousin 
Will’s bed, in the back room. For the present, 
however, he gave up all thought of dying, but 
spoke pathetically to Cousin Will of his narrow 
escape. 

That young gentleman suspected what was the 
matteiv and made a good deal of fun of him, and 
had a good laugh at Nimpo’s cake. 

“ I guess mother was right, after all,” said Nim- 
po. “She never would let us eat much of that 
rich cake.” 

That morning, also, Nimpo’s conscience began 
to trouble her about the dishes she had left. So, 
after school, she took Kobbie down to the house, 
and proceeded to “ put the kitchen to rights,” as 
she called it. 

It was so warm she thought she wouldn’t make 


128 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


a fire, as she could just as well wash the dishes 
in cold water; but she found this no easy thing 
to do. She worked away patiently, but every 
thing was so tightly stuck on, that it was the 
work of some hours to get them clean. The 
worst of it was she grew very warm and tired, 
and spoke crossly to Kobbie when he came in to 
ask some little help from her. At last after sweep- 
ing up the floor, and putting away the things as 
well as she could, under the circumstances, she 
went out to where Kobbie sat on the steps, very 
much ashamed of her crossness. 

“ I wish my mamty’d come home,” said he soft- 
ly to himself 

“So do I, Kobbie;” said Nimpo pleasantly. 
“Shall we send her a letter to come home?” 

“Do, send it in a mitit.” 

“Well I will, soon’s I get back to Mrs. Prim- 
kins’.” 

“You’re the bestest girl I ever saw,” said the 
affectionate little fellow. 

“You’re a little darling,” said Nimpo, giving 
him a good hug. 


RUSH MAKES HIS WILL. 


129 • 


“Don’t screeze me! I ain’t a darling — I’m a 
boy,” said Eobbie, his spirits returning. 

Then he sprang up, and danced around the 
steps. 

“ I’m a prancy horse I Don’t ixturb me ! ” 

But Nimpo seized him, and kissed him two or 
three times. 

“ I haven’t any kisses for you,” he said, trying 
to wipe them off his lips, “they’re all for my 
mamty when she comes home.” 

“Well, then I’ll give you some,” said Nimpo. 

“Well,” he said, holding up his lips innocently, 
to receive them. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


KEEPING HOUSE. 

Since the day when Mrs. Primkins said that 
Mrs. Rievor was “clean tuckered out,” Nimpo had 
taken care to write cheerful letters to her mother; 
but she was really very unhappy at her boarding- 
house. 

She had no more violent outbursts, for she had 
a little better control of her temper. But in spite 
of her efforts to endure it quietly, she was so 
homesick that she began to think any thing would 
be better than staying there; so she proposed to 
Rush that they should go home and keep house 
by themselves. 

To be sure, she had not forgotten the unlucky 
cake business; but she knew of one or two plain 
things that she could cook, and then they could 
live on crackers and raisins, and such things, from 


KEEPING HOUSE. 


131 


the store, where you must know, they sold not 
only dry goods and crockery, but groceries, hard- 
ware, boots and shoes, and, in fact, nearly every 
thing needed in a house. 

Kush, of course, was delighted with the plan. 
So, for several days, he and Nimpo, with Cousin 
Will’s consent, helped themselves to crackers and 
cheese, and other things, and coaxed from the two 
clerks such delicacies as candy, raisins, nuts, and 
lemons. 

Every thing they could get they carefully took 
to the house, without eating a bit, and so by Fri- 
day night they thought they had enough to begin 
housekeeping. 

On Saturday morning, after breakfast, without 
saying a w rd to Mrs. Primkins, they all went 
down to the house to stay. 

First they built a fire in the kitchen, not be- 
cause they needed a fire, but somehow a fire in 
the kitchen seemed a necessary part of house- 
keeping. 

Nimpo, feeling the housekeeping fever stirring 
within her, tied a veil on her head, and gave the 


132 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


house a most energetic sweeping. By the time 
she had swept the dirt out on the back piazza, 
ready to take up (or sweep over the edge, more 
likely), she was quite tired. 

So she ransacked the book-case, and found a 
book which she hadn’t read since she went to 
Mrs. Primkins. It was “Thaddeus of Warsaw,” — 
a very delightful book, she thought as she threw 
herself on the lounge, and began to read. 

Her housekeeping fever evaporated, and she 
read and read, letting the dust settle all over 
every thing in the rooms, and leaving the furni- 
ture in confusion. 

Meanwhile, Robbie amused himself about the 
house, and Rush played in the yard with Johnny 
Stevens, who never knew how nearly he came to 
owning that coveted bow and arrows. 

By and by, he came in. 

“Nimpo, ain’t we going to have dinner? John- 
ny’s gone home to his.” 

“Well, I s’pose so,” said Nimpo, reluctantly 
laying down her book, where the hero was 
in a desperate situation, — as book heroes al- 


KEEPING HOUSE. 


133 


ways are, you know; and down-stairs they all 
went. 

“ Let’s eat it right here,” said Rush, going 
into the pantry where the precious stores were 
kept. 

“Oh, no!” said Nimpo. “Let’s set the table 
nice; it’ll seem so much more like home.” 

“Well,” said Rush, “where’s the table-cloth? 
ni help.” 

“ In that drawer,” said Nimpo, from the dining- 
room, where she was drawing out the table. 

The dishes were soon on with three such active 
workers, for Robbie brought the knives and the 
napkins. But now a difficulty arose, — the forks 
and spoons were all locked up in the safe at the 
store. 

“Never mind,” said Rush; “we can use the 
kitchen ones. They’re as good as Mrs. Primkins’, 
any day.” 

“We can go without,” said Nimpo, who couldn’t 
bear to have anything like Mrs. Primkins; “and 
besides, we don’t need them.” 

It was a droll meal that they sat down to at 


134 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


last, for Nimpo insisted on having every thing 
put on in style. 

At the head of the table, by her plate, she had 
a pitcher of milk (brought from the next neigh- 
bor) and a dish of candy, also one of raisins. The 
candy was sticks, cut into small pieces, — “to look 
like more,” Nimpo said. 

Before Eush was a large plate of crackers,* and 
a glass of radishes — suspiciously large— out of the 
garden. Scattered about were plates of cheese, 
butter, dried beef, and so on, which finished this 
odd meal. 

They ate a few crackers, as a matter of duty, 
and then attacked the candy and raisins. 

After dinner, Nimpo hurriedly put on an apron 
and cleared up the kitchen, while Kush and Kob- 
bie played in the barn on the hay. 

“Thaddeus of Warsaw” contented Nimpo for an- 
other hour, and then a thorough and exhaustive 
rummaging of boxes, drawers, and shelves, with 
the zest of a long absence, occupied her till tea- 
time. 

That was rather a dull meal. The candy and 


KEEPING HOUSE. 


135 


raisins being gone, it consisted of crackers and 
milk and dried beef. 

By the time that the children went np into the 
parlor it began to be dark, and somehow a dread- 
ful loneliness seemed to settle over the rooms. 
It was -unpleasant to think that there was no- 
body in the house b-ut themselves. Then Nimpo 
remembered that, she had left all the windows 
open in her sweeping of the morning. 

She asked the boys to go -up with her to shut 
them. Not that she was afraid ! — of course not — 
but it seemed more cheerful to keep together. 

Accordingly, they all went iip-stairs and closed 
the windows, and then they went down-stairs 
and did the same in the basement, locking every 
door. 

“ Where’ll we sleep to-night ? ” asked Kush, 
when they were all back in the parlor again, 
with a light; “in our own rooms?” 

“No,” said Nimpo: “Robbie and I will sleep 
in mother’s bed, and you can sleep on the lounge 
in the sitting-room.” 

“ I think I might sleep with Robbie,” in moth- 


136 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


er’s room. You’re the oldest, and you ought to 
sleep on the lounge.” 

“No, I have to sleep with Eobbie,” said Nimpo, 
with dignity; “besides, you’re a boy, and you 
ought to protect us.” 

What protection there was in sleeping on the 
lounge, Nimpo didn’t say; but Eush accepted the 
compliment to his boyhood, and made no more 
objections to the arrangement. 

As it grew later Eobbie became very tired, and 
leaning on Nimpo’s knee he begged her to tell 
him a story. 

Nimpo took him into her lap. 

“Well, what shall it be?” she asked. 

“Tell me the story ’bout the Tiny Pigs,” said 
Eobbie, eagerly. 

So Nimpo began. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE STORY OF THE TINY PIGS. 

“Once upon a time, there was a mamma pig, 
and she had three littl^ tiny pigs. And it was 
hard work to get along, for they lived in the 
woods, and had nothing to eat except what they 
could get themselves. So the mamma pig told 
the tiny pigs that they must go away and make 
houses for themselves. So they all started off, 
and the oldest one went to the North, and n-e-v-e-r 
came back; and the middle one went off to the 
South, and n-e-v-e-r came back; but the little, 
tiny bit of a baby pig said, ‘I will live by my 
mamma.’ ” 

“ So would I ! ” interrupted Robbie. 

“Yes, so you would,” said Nimpo. “Well, this 
little pig went off to where a man was making 
bricks, and he said, ‘Man, will you please give 


138 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


me some bricks to build me a house?’ — for this 
tiny pig was very polite. Well, the man gave 
him some bricks, and the little pig built himself 
a nice, strong house. 

He hadn’t lived there very long, when there 
came along a great gray wolf Now, the wolf 
was v-e-r-y hungry, and he wanted a little pig 
for his breakfast. So he knocked at the door. 

‘Who’s there?’ squeaked the tiny pig. 

‘ It’s I ! ’ said the wolf, in a deep growly voice. 

‘What do you want?’ said the tiny pig. 

‘ I want to come in,’ said the wolf 

‘Well, you can’t come in,’ said the tiny pig; 
for his mother had taught him to be very careful, 
and never let any body into his house. 

But the wolf was angry, so he roared out: 

‘Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll b-l-o-w 
your house down ! ’ 

‘Huff away, puff away; you can’t blow this 
house down,’ said the tiny pig. 

So he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and 
he huffed, but he couldn’t blow the house down, 
because it was made of bricks. But he was a sly 


THE STORY OF THE TINY PIGS. 


139 


old wolf, and lie wasn’t discouraged a bit. He 
softened his roar to as gentle a growl as he could, 
and he said: 

‘Piggy, do you like turnips?’ 

‘ Oh, my ! I guess I do ! ’ said piggy. 

‘Well, Farmer Green has got a whole field of 
turnips, and I’ll come over to-morrow morning, at 
six o’clock, and we’ll go over and get some.’ 

‘Well,’ said piggy, ‘all right.’ And the wolf 
went home to his den. 

The next morning, at six o’clock, he came 
again, and knocked at piggy’s door. 

‘Who’s there?’ asked piggy. 

‘ It’s I ! ’ answered the wolf, in his softest 
growl. ‘I’m come to take you over to get the 
turnips.’ 

‘ Oh ! ’ said the wise little piggy. ‘ I went 
over at five o’clock, and ate as many as I could 
stuff.’ 

Then the wolf gave a great growl; he couldn’t 
help it, because he was hungry, you know. But, 
in a minute he thought of another plan. 

‘Piggy,’ said he, ‘do you like pears?’ 


140 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


‘ Oh, my ! I guess I do ! ’ said piggy. 

‘Well,’ said the wolf, ‘to-morrow, at five 
o’clock. I’ll come and take you over to Farmer 
Brown’s orchard, where there’s a lovely tree of 
pears.’ 

‘Well, all right,’ said piggy. 

Now, the piggy thought he’d be smart, so he 
went over at four o’clock; but others could be 
cunning as well as he, and he had hardly got to 
the orchard before he saw the gray wolf coming 
along. Piggy hurried to climb into a pear-tree, 
and when the wolf got there he was eating pears. 

‘Are they nice, piggy?’ said the wolf, look- 
ing up wistfully, — not at the pears, but at the pig ; 
for a wolf can’t climb a tree, you know.” 

“No more can a piggy,” said Bobbie. 

“No,” answered Nimpo, “only in story-books.” 

‘Oh, I guess they are!’ said piggy. ‘Shall I 
throw you one ? ’ 

‘Yes,’ said the wolf, — just to pretend, you 
know, for he couldn’t bear pears. 

So piggy threw down a pear, and the wolf ran 
and got it. And then he threw another, farther 


THE STORY OF THE TINY PIGS. 


141 


off, and the wolf ran after it. And the next one 
he threw just as far as he could; and while the 
wolf was gone after it, piggy jumped down, 
sprang into an empty barrel that stood there, 
and began to roll down the hill. 

When the wolf started to come back, he saw 
this barrel rolling down towards him, and he was 
awfully scared; and he turned and ran away, as 
fast as he could, off to his den. So piggy got safe 
home. 

By-’n’-by, the wolf came along again, and 
knocked at the door. 

‘Who’s there?’ asked the tiny pig. 

‘ Why, piggy ! how did you get home ? ’ asked 
the wolf ‘I got an awful fright; a barrel came 
rolling right at me, and I knew it was some trap 
of those awful men, — so I ran home.’ 

‘ Why, that was me ! ’ said the tiny pig, laugh- 
ing. ‘I was in that barrel.’ 

Then the wolf gave an awful roar, to think he 
had been so foolish; and he said, in a dreadful 
voice : 

‘Now, piggy, you must let me in.’ 


142 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


‘But I sha’n’t let you in,’ said piggy. 

‘Then I’ll come down the chimney,’ said the 
wolf. 

So he began to climb up on the house. 

But piggy pulled his feather bed up to the fire- 
place, and set it on fire. The wolf got on the 
chimney, and began to come down. But the hor- 
rible smoke and smell of the burning feathers 
choked him and smothered him, and he fell right 
down into the fire, and never troubled the tiny pig 
any more.” 

“I wonder what old Primkins’ll say when we 
don’t come home,” said Kush. 

“Oh, she’ll say ‘them children are up to some 
mischief again. I’ll be bound,”’ said Nimpo, bit- 
terly. “Won’t it be nice when the folks are back, 
and we can have our own home again?” 

“I guess it will,” said Rush. “Say, Nimp, it 
isn’t so fine, boarding out, as you expected, is 
it?” 

“I never thought Mrs. Primkins was so mean,” 
said Nimpo, blushing at the recollection of her 


airs. 


THE STORY OF THE TINY PIGS. 


143 


A long silence followed. The wind was rising, 
and a blind blew open up-stairs. Nimpo’s book 
had made her nervous. 

“Hark!” she said. “Wliat’s that?” 

“ It sounded like shutting a door 1 ” whispered 
Rush. 

“I believe some one’s up-stairs,” said Nimpo, 
excitedly. 

Robbie, frightened at their manner, began to 
cry. 

“Nimp, let’s go back!” exclaimed Rush. 

“Well,” said Nimpo, hurriedly, “Robbie cries 
so!” 

And, with very unusual haste, they got their 
things and hurried out, leaving the lamp burning, 
and locking the door on the outside. Then each 
took hold of one of Robbie’s hands, and they ran 
as fast as they could fly to Mrs. Primkins’. 

That lady was just shutting up the house for 
the night. Probably she suspected the state of 
the case, for she said, grimly, as they came in: 

“I thought, mebby you’d gone to stay this 
time.” 


144 


NIMFO'S TROUBLES. 


“ Kush,” said ‘ Nimpo, as they went up-stairs, 
“we left that lamp burning!” 

“So we did!” said Rush; “and, oh dear! our 
kittens, asleep on the bed! Well, they won’t get 
hurt, I guess; and their saucer was half full of 
milk.” 

“And we can go over the first thing in the 
morning and get them,” said Nimpo. 


CHAPTER XVL 


RUSH RUNS AWAY. 

You know, in the story-books, when boys are 
unhappy in their homes, it is customary for them 
to run away, — generally to sea, — and, after long 
years, come back very rich, drive into the village 
they left, with four prancing horses, forgive every- 
body, especially their enemies, take a big house, 
and live in fine style. 

Well, Rush, though in general rather a quiet 
boy, had read a good many of these stories, and 
they had worked on his mind till, feeling very un- 
comfortable and unhappy at Mrs. Primkins’, he 
gradually began to think it was a suitable epoch 
in his life to run away. 

He had not said much about it, only occasionally 
a mysterious hint to Nimpo, which she thought 
nothing of. But his wrongs rankled in his soul; 


146 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


and one morning, having left the hatchet out in 
the rain, he got a scolding from Mrs. Primkins, 
which decided him at once to start out in the 
world to seek his fortune. 

He had no very definite plan as to where he 
wanted to go, — the sea-coast was hundreds of 
miles from him, — but he finally decided to go to 
Cleveland, thirty or forty miles off, where an ac- 
quaintance of his had lately gone to live. 

This friend was a boy of his own age, and they 
had often talked over together plans for running 
away, and Rush knew if he could get to George 
Handy that he would join in the plan. To be 
sure, he had no idea of George’s whereabouts 
‘in the city, but he thought he could ask the 
boys till he found him. So he went quietly up- 
stairs and put on two pairs of pantaloons and 
two pairs of stockings, for he thought it would 
be his last chance to have any clothes for some 
time. 

Nimpo noticed that he looked rather bunchy; 
but when she asked him what was the matter 
with his clothes, he said, “Nothing,” and she 


RUSH RUNS AWAY. 


147 


thought no more of it, but started off early to 
go to school with Anna Morris. 

As soon as she was gone, Kush went up to 
her room, got some paper and a pen, and sat 
down to write a letter. Runaways always do 
that, you know. He wasn’t much of a writer, 
but he stumbled on, and this is what he produced: 

DEER Sister: 

When you get this I shall be fur of on the — no, on the 
way to a big city ! IVe run away. 

Take care of Minzeyboo. I’ve taken 2 pants. That’s what 
made me look bunchy. 

It’s ’cause old Primkins scolded me so. 

Tell Mother I’ll come back in a few years, and I send my 
love to her. Tell her I took my bow and arrows. 

Eobbie can have my sled. 

E. Eievor. 

This note he laid on the stand in Nimpo’s 
room, and stole down -stairs like a thief He 
needn’t have been so careful though, for Mrs. 
Primkins was making pies in the kitchen, and 
she did not look up as he went through. 

She had just been frying doughnuts, and the 


148 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


jar full of them stood on the table, emitting a 
fresh and spicy odor. Kush looked longingly at 
them. 

“Mrs. Primkins, may I have one?” he asked, 
timidly. 

“No,” was the harsh reply. “I can’t stand 
round on my feet all day, frying doughnuts for 
good-for-nothing boys to eat between meals — not 
by a jug-full! You’ll have them at the table, like 
the rest of us.” And then, feeling still grieved 
about the hatchet, she went on: “I’m sure, if 
ever a body was glad I’ll be, when your mother 
gets back and takes you all home agin. If I’ve 
got to have children around, I prefer to have 
the hull trainen of ’em, from the cradle up.” 

“You won’t be troubled with me very long, Mrs. 
Primkins,” Kush couldn’t help saying, proudly. 

“No, I know it; only two weeks more, thank 
goodness! and I can have some peace of my life 
once more ! ” And she lifted a finished pie on 
one hand, and cut off the superfluous upper crust 
with a vim. 

Kush slipped out, went round to the shed and 


RUSH RUNS AWAY, 


149 


got his bow and arrows, and started off on the 
road which the stage took when it went to Cleve- 
land. 

The road went past the store, and he thought 
he might as well go in and get something to 
eat. So m he went. None of the clerks noticed 
him, which surprised him, for he felt in such a 
tragic mood that he thought he must look ^dif- 
ferent from his usual self 

He lounged about awhile, filling some pock- 
ets with crackers and raisins, and others with 
matches, to start his fires in the woods. 

At last, about eleven o’clock, he finally started 
on his way. He walked up the hill past Mr. 
Stevens’, where he saw Johnny playing in the 
back-yard, and he felt as if he had grown years 
older since last he played with him. 

It was a lovely day, and Kush enjoyed his walk 
very much for two or three miles, till he began 
to get tired. Then he turned into the woods, 
which came up to the road on each side. He 
found a soft bed of moss, and laid down to rest 
Of course he fell asleep. 


150 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


When he awoke and sat up, he could not, for a 
moment, remember where he was. But it came 
to him very soon that he had run away, and as 
he had slept off his indignation about the scold- 
ing, it struck him, with a sort of a pang, that 
he was alone in the world, with his own way to 
make. 

However, he got up to go on. But the moss 
he had slept on was rather damp, as moss is apt 
to be, and he felt stiff and sore. 

“I declare, I believe it’s getting night ! ” he said 
to himself, as he came to a clear place in the 
woods and saw how dark it was. “ I’d better be 
shooting a bird for my supper, or I’ll have to go 
hungry.” 

So he strung up his bow and prepared an arrow, 
and then began to look around for a bird or 
squirrel. 

For a long time, not a living thing could he 
see, and he began to think the birds had left the 
country, and the squirrels taken refuge from his 
arms, in their holes. But at last he caught sight 
of a red squirrel sitting in a high branch of a 


RUSH RUNS AWAY. 


151 


tree, his tail curled up over his back, and very 
busy nibbling a nut. 

Kush couldn’t desire a better mark, so he fired. 
Away scampered the squirrel, and Rush could not 
find him nor the arrow either. 

Now, he had but two arrows left, and he began 
to feel discouraged, especially as it was getting 
quite dark, and, in following his game, he had 
lost his direction, and didn’t know which way to 
go to find the road. 

“Never mind!” he said. “I oan make a fire, 
and camp out. I’ve always wanted to, and here’s 
a splendid place for it, too. First, I must gather 
some sticks.” 

He threw down his bow and arrows, and start- 
ed out to find sticks. But that was a droll piece 
of woods; scarcely a stick could he find. The 
trees were very high, and he couldn’t reach the 
branches, and the pieces that he did find were 
so wet and decayed that, when he had collected 
half a dozen, and tried to light them, they re- 
fused to burn. In fact, he used all his matches,, 
and could not produce a blaze. ... 


152 


NIMFO’S TROUBLES. 


“ Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said at last — 
though rather faintly. “Other fellows have slept 
without a fire, and I can. Besides it’s so warm 
one doesn’t need a fire.” 

So he started back for the place he had left 
his bow and arrows, but he could not find it now. 
In vain he searched up and down in the growing 
darkness, and at last, quite disheartened, he lay 
down on the ground. 

“If mother’d been home. I’d never have run 
away,” said he; “and I might have stood it a 
week or two more,” he added, after a minute. “ I 
wonder what Nimpo’s doing now. I wonder if 
she’s found my note ! ” 

Then he laid still and tried to go to sleep, but 
his long nap had made him wakeful, and he be- 
gan to listen to the sounds in the woods. 

First he heard a subdued chattering, as though 
some naughty squirrel was getting a scolding for 
staying out late; then he heard an owl, but 
though it sounded lonely, it did not frighten him, 
for he had heard owls before. 

But soon he heard the breaking of sticks, not 


RUSH RUNS AWAY. 


153 


far off, and at once he thought of bears. Now, 
bears were his pet horror. All Sarah’s horrible 
stories had bears in them, and he had often lain 
awake at night, and thought he heard them scram- 
bling up the side of the house. 

To be sure his mother told him it was foolish, 
that bears were very seldom found in Ohio, still 
he kneAv there was occasionally one, and that left 
room for dread. ' 

He sprang to his feet and listened. Again he 
heard the cracking of twigs, and it seemed to be 
nearer. Without stopping to think, letting his 
terror have complete control of him, he started 
and ran. His hat fell off; he stumbled over roots, 
and fell; he ran against trees, and was knocked 
nearly breathless ; but on he ran, till he was fair- 
ly exhausted. 

Then he stopped to listen. All was still once 
more, and as the ground was soft, and seemed 
very wet, he thought he would go more slowly, 
and try to get out of the woods. After wading 
about in the swamp he had stumbled into, falling 
over logs, getting confused and fearfully tired, 


154 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


he caught sight of a light. It was very little, 
and dim, but it suggested people, and the poor 
boy thought nothing would be so welcome as 
the sight of a human being, unless it was a good 
supper. 

He struggled on towards the light, scratching 
himself, tearing his clothes on the bushes, and 
cutting his feet on rough rocks. 

At last he drew near the house. It was a 
mere cabin in the woods, and it had but one 
window, through which streamed the light. 

Kush crept softly up to the house, for he did 
not like its looks. 

“ It looks like a robber’s den,” he said, “ or the 
places in the books where old witches live.” And 
though he did not really believe in witches, he 
couldn’t help feeling rather shy about going in. 
Stealing up to the window, he stood on tiptoe, 
and looked 'in. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 

It was a curious place, very roughly built, and 
no bigger than a small bedroom. On the walls 
hung guns, — two or three of them, — a sharp look- 
ing axe, and a hatchet. On one side was a sort of 
rude lounge frame, with blankets upon it, prob- 
ably used as a bed. 

On the floor lay a dead body of some kind, and 
stooping over it was a man. 

The one miserable candle, stuck on a nail in 
the wall, gave a flickering light, and Rush could 
not see whether the object on the floor was the 
body of an animal, or of a boy. 

The man was very busy with it. Rush could 
see the gleam of a knife now and then, and on 
the whole, he was about as much afraid of the 


156 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


mysterious person in the hut, as he was of the 
dark outside. So he crept away again. 

Before getting far, he heard the door of the 
hut open, and terror seized him once more. He 
started on another run. 

He did not go far, however, for he ran with 
full force against a tree, which knocked him 
senseless, and he fell to the ground as though 
dead. 

If any one had been there, he might have heard 
a voice say, 

“Well, well! ’spects my ole ears done cheat 
me ag’inl I’ze shore I heerd somebody prowlin’ 
roimd.” 

But Bush heard it not, nor any other sound. 
Nothing more did he know, till the sun was high 
in the heavens, when he came to himself, and 
sat up. 

Stiff, and sore, and bruised, and weak, and 
deathly faint from hunger. All these he felt, 
and as he glanced at his clothes he was almost 
in doubt whether he was not mistaken in himself. 
His garments were a mere bundle of rags, — torn. 


THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS, 157 


soiled, bloody rags. His shoes were half gone, 
his hair matted together, blood on his face and 
hands. Was this dirty ragamuffin Kush Kievor? 

He staggered to his feet, and looked around. 
There, not a hundred feet off, was the cabin that 
had frightened him so much. 

“ Golly ! ” he exclaimed, recognizing it at once, 
“if that isn’t Old Lisles’ house! and that was 
the old darkey himself that I saw ! What a fool 
I was 1 He’d have taken good care of me, he 
knows our folks.” 

Sure enough, it was the house of a queer old 
negro, who did odd jobs, like sawing wood, mak- 
ing gardens, and other little things in the village, 
enough to pay for his tobacco, and the few things 
he needed, and spent the rest of the time in hunt- 
ing. He was called “ Old Lisles,” and he was con- 
sidered half crazy, but was perfectly harmless, and 
good-natured. 

Rush dragged himself up to the house, but no 
one was in. He looked in at the window, and 
saw that one of the guns was gone, and he con- 
cluded that Old Lisles was off on a hunt. 


158 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“Why I can’t be more than two miles from 

home ! ” was his next thought, with — I must con- 

* 

fess — a thrill of joy. 

“ Camping out, and running away, are real fun 
in the books, but I don’t want any more of them. 
Ugh ! what a horrid night I did have ! I wish I 
hadn’t written that letter,” was the next reflec- 
tion, with a blush. “I hope Nimpo didn’t And 
it,” but he did not feel much hope of that, for 
he had been careful to put it where she would 
find it. 

So, well as he could, with his soaked shoes and 
stiff legs, he started ofi* for home, well knowing 
the direction of the village from where he was. 
When he reached the neighborhood of houses, he 
slunk around on the back streets, for he could 
not bear to have any one see him. 

“ If I could only get into the house without any 
body knowing me, and fix myself up,” was his 
anxious thought now. With a hat, it wouldn’t 
have been quite so bad, for he could have pulled 
it over his eyes, and perhaps people would not 
recognize him. 


THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 159 


But he had no such good luck. Johnny Stevens 
was the first one to see him, and he shouted : 

“ Oh ! oh ! Kush’s been fighting ! ” and similar 
greeting he received from every boy he met. 

He avoided going past the store, and crawled 
into Mrs. Primkins’ yard the back way, through 
a broken fence. He hoped most fervently, that 
she would not see him, but every thing was 
against him on that occasion. She was hanging 
out clothes in the yard, and she saw him in a 
moment. 

“Well, well!” was her remark, “what under 
the canopy have you been up to now? If your 
ma don’t come home soon, you’ll be a vagabond 
on the face of the earth.” 

Kush made no reply, but hurried up-stairs, glad 
to get off so easily. At the head of the attic stairs 
he met Nimpo, his letter in her hand, and a look 
of horror in her face. She had just found it, and 
the cry she was about to give, died cm her lips 
at sight of him. 

“Why, Kush!” she began, but he interrupted. 

“Don’t say a word, Nimp, and I’ll tell you all 


160 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


about it. Come in here,” and he pulled her into 
the room. 

Then, while he took ofif what was left of his 
shoes, and washed his face and hands, Nimpo sat 
on the edge of the bed, and heard his story. She 
was shocked with his adventures, but at his ear- 
nest request she promised not to tell, and also 
— which was harder — to get him something to 
eat. 

“Old Primkins’s hanging up clothes,” said he, 
“I guess she won’t see you.” 

Nimpo went down, and brought him a piece of 
bread, and a cold potato. Kush, though not very 
fond of these delicacies, devoured them with a 
relish. Then Nimpo helped him comb his hair, 
and bind up his various cuts and scratches. 

“But why didn’t you find out last night?” he 
asked. 

“Why I stayed with Anna Morris all night, 
and Bobbie did too, and I suppose Mrs. Primkins 
thought you were with us. Anywj,y she didn’t 
say any thing about you when I came home a 
little while ago, and found your letter. 0 Rush ! 



“ NIMPO SAT ON THE BED WHILE RUSH TOLD HIS STORY.” 

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THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 161 

how could you run away! How mother would 
feel." 

“Well, I’ve got enough of it anyway,” said 
Kush earnestly. “Don’t tell mother — you know 
you promised.” 

“I won’t,” said Nimpo, “but you must promise 
not to try it again.” 

“Try it again? I don’t believe you’ll catch a 
fellow twice in that scrape 1 ” 

Rush did not succeed in keeping the affair se- 
cret. It all leaked out someway. The boys who 
saw him come home teased him, and the boys 
that saw him starting off, jumped at the truth of 
the story, and before the day was over, every 
body in town knew that Rush had run away. 

The clerks at the store laughed at him; the 
boys plagued him; Mrs. Primkins talked to him 
half an hour in her solemn parlor, on his wicked- 
ness; his Sunday-school teacher told him dread- 
ful stories of the bad end of runaways; and in 
every way life was made a burden to him, till 
he told Nimpo he had a good mind to run away 
again. 


11 


162 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


But with all that was said to him, not a word 
could any one draw out of him. Nimpo, too, kept 
her word and told nothing. So, although there 
were many conjectures about it, the true story of 
his adventures never was known, and after a few 
days the subject was dropped. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 

One morning Mrs. Primkins received a letter. 
This was a very unusual occurrence, and she has- 
tened to wipe her hands out of the dish Avater, 
hunt up her “ specs,” clean them elaborately, and 
at last sit down in her chintz-covered “ Boston 
rocker ” to enjoy it at her leisure. Meanwhile 
Nimpo was finishing her breakfast, and did not 
observe her. 

Mrs. Primkins, having found her scissors and 
deliberately cut around the seal, opened the sheet, 
and glancing at the name at the bottom of the 
page, turned her eyes hastily towards Nimpo, 
with a low, significant “humph!” Still Nimpo 
did not see her, and Mrs. Primkins went on to 
read the letter, hastily covering with her hands 
something which fell from the first folds. 


164 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Very deliberately she read it from date to sig- 
nature, twice over, and ending as she had begun, 
with a significant “ humph ! ” she refolded the 
sheet, slipped in the enclosure, put it into her 
black silk bag, which hung on the back of her 
chair, and resumed her dish washing. 

Nimpo, having finished her breakfast, gath- 
ered up her books, and hurried off to school, 
though it was two hours too early, never dream- 
ing that the letter had any thing to do with her. 

After the morning work was done, — ^the pans 
scalded and set in the sun; the house tidied for 
the day; the vinegar reheated and poured over 
the walnuts that were pickling; the apples that 
were drying turned over; the piece of muslin, 
“bolt” she called it, that was bleaching on the 
grass, thoroughly sprinkled; and in fact every 
thing in doors and out, in perfect order, — Mrs. 
Prim kins sat down to consider. 

She drew the letter from the bag, and read it 
again, carefully inspecting a ten-dollar bill in 
her hands, and then leaned back, and indulged 
herself in an unheard-of luxury, — a rest of five 


MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 


165 


minutes with her hands idle ! If Nimpo had 
chanced to come in, she would have been alarmed 
at such an extraordinary state of things, but she 
was at that moment in her seat at the school- 
house, with wrinkled brow, wrestling with sun- 
dry conundrums in her “ Watts on the Mind,” 
little suspecting that her fate was hanging in 
the balance in Mrs. Primkins’ kitchen at that 
moment. 

At last Mrs. Primkins’ thin lips opened; she 
was alone in the house, and she began to talk 
to herself. 

“Wants her to have a birthday party ! humph! 
I must say I can’t see the good of pampering 
children ’s folks do nowadays I When I was 
young now, we had something to think of beside^ 
fine clothes, unwholesome food, and worldly dissi- 
pation I I must say I think Mis’ Rievor has some 
very oncommon idees. Hows’ever,” she went on, 
contemplating fondly the bill she still held in 
her hand, “I do’ know’s I have any call to fret 
my gizzard if she chooses to potter away her 
money. I don’t see my way clear to refuse alto- 


166 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


getlier to do what she asks, ’s long’s the child’s on 
my hands. Ten dollars! Humph! She ‘hopes 
it will be enough to provide refreshments for 
them!’ It’s my private opinion it will, and a 
mite over for — ^for — other things,” she added res- 
olutely, closing her lips with a snap. “ I ain’t 
such a shif’less manager’s all that comes to, I 
do hope! ’Twon’t take no ten dollars to give a 
birthday party in my house, I bet a cooky ! ” 

That night when supper was over, and Nimpo 
was about to go up-stairs, Mrs. Primkins stopped 
her. “Nimpo,” she said, “wait a bit. I got a 
letter from your ma to-day.” 

“ Did you ? ” exclaimed Nimpo, alarmed. “ 0, 
what’s the matter?” 

“Don’t fly into tifics! nothing is the matter,” 
said Mrs. Primkins. 

“Is she coming home?” w^as the next eager 
question. 

“No; not yet,” fell like cold water on her hopes, 
“but she says to-morrow’s your birthday.” 

“ Why ! — so it is ! ” said Nimpo, reflecting. “ I 
never thought of it!” 


MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 


167 


“Well, she thinks perhaps I’d best let you have 
a few of your friends to tea on that day, if it 
won’t be too much of a chore for me,” went on 
Mrs. Primkins. 

Nimpo’s face was radiant. “0 Mrs. Primkins, 
if you will ! ” but it fell again ; “ but where could 
they be,” for trespassing on the dismal glories of 
the Primkins’ parlor never entered her wildest 
dreams. 

“ I’ve thought of that,” said Mrs. Primkins 
grimly. “ Of course I couldn’t abide a pack of 
young ones tramping up my best parlor carpet, 
and I thought maybe I’d put a few things up in 
the second story, and let you have ’em there.” 

“ Oh ! that will be splendid ! ” said Nimpo ea- 
gerly. “But — but — ” she hesitated, “could they 
take tea here?” and she glanced around the 
kitchen. 

“No: I shall set the table in the back cham- 
ber, and let them play in the front one. We can 
put some chairs in, and I’m sure a bare floor is 
more suitable for a pack of young ones.” 

“ Oh yes ! we won’t be afraid of hurting that. 


168 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


0 that’ll be grand ! ” continued Nimpo, as the plan 
grew on her. “ I thank you so much, Mrs. Prim- 
kins ! and we’ll be so careful not to hurt any 
thing.” 

“ Humph ! ” said Mrs. Primkins, who didn’t 
think it necessary to mention the ten-dollar bill, 
“you’re a master hand to promise.” 

“ I know I forget sometimes,” said Nimpo pen- 
itently, “ but I’ll try really to be careful this time.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Primkins in conclusion, as 
she took her knitting and sat down for the even- 
ing, “if you don’t hector me nigh about to 
death. I’ll lose my guess ; but as I’m in for’t 
you may’s well bring the girls when you come 
from school to-morrow. Then you’ll have time 
to play before supper, for their mothers’ll want 
them home before dark.” 

“Do you care who I invite?” asked Nimpo, 
pausing, with the door open, on her way to her 
room. 

“No: I do’ know’s I do; your intimate friends 
your ma said.”. 

“Oh goody!” said Nimpo as she skipped up- 


MI^S. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 


169 


stairs two at a time to tell the news to Kush. 
“ How nice that’ll be ! won’t we have fun ! ” 

The next morning she was off bright and early, 
and before the bell rang every girl in the school 
knew that Nimpo was going to have a birthday 
party, and was wondering if she would be invited ; 
at recess she issued her invitations, every one of 
which was promptly accepted, and in the after- 
noon all came in their best dresses, ready to go 
home with her after school. 

At four o’clock, Nimpo marshalled her friends 
and started. Now the truth was that the girls 
had been so very lovely to her when she was in- 
viting, that she found it hard to distinguish be- 
tween intimate friends, and those not so intimate, 
so she had asked more than she realized till she 
saw them started up the street. However, she 
had not been limited as to numbers, so she gave 
herself no concern, as she gaily led the way. 

Meanwhile the Primkins’ family had been bus}^ 
After the morning work was done, Mrs. Primkins 
and Augusta made a loaf of wholesome plain cake, 
a couple of tins of biscuits, and about the same 


170 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


number of cookies with caraway seeds in them. 
After dinner they carried a table into the back 
chamber, and spread the feast. Nimpo’s mother 
had sent as a birthday present, a beautiful new 
set of toy dishes. It had come in the stage while 
Nimpo was at school, and Augusta thought it 
would be nice to serve the tea on these dishes. 
Not being able to think of any serious objection, 
and seeing advantage in the small pieces required 
to fill them, Mrs. Primkins had consented, and 
Augusta had taken pains to spread a very pret- 
ty table, all with its white and gilt china. The 
biscuits and cookies were cut small to match, 
and when all was ready it really looked quite 
nice, with its toy slices of cake, and one small 
dish of jelly, from the top shelf in Mrs. Primkins’ 
pantry. 

During the afternoon, a boy came up from the 
store with several pounds of nuts and raisins and 
candy which Cousin Will sent up, by Nimpo’s 
father’s orders. 

Every thing was ready, and Mrs. Primkins had 
put on a clean checked apron to do honor to the 


MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 


171 


occasion, and sat down in her rocker, feeling that 
she had earned a good rest, when Augusta’s voice 
sounded from the stairway — 

“ Ma, do look down street 1 ” 

Mrs. Primkins went to the window that looked 
towards the village, and. was struck with horror. 

“Land’s sake! Why, what under the canopy! 
Did you ever!” came from her lips in quick suc- 
cession; for there was Nimpo the centre of a mob 
of girls, all in Sunday best, as her experienced 
eye saw at a glance. 

“ Ma,” exclaimed Augusta, rushing down, “ I do 
believe that young one has invited the whole 
school!” 

“ The trollop ! ” was all Mrs. Primkins could get 
out in her exasperation. 

“ I’d send ’em right straight home ! ” said Au- 
gusta indignantly, “ it’s a burning shame ! ” 

“ Mercy on us ! this is a pretty kittle of fish ! ” 
gasped Mrs. Primkins. 

“ I wouldn’t stand it ! so there ! ” said Augusta 
sharply. “ I never did see such a girl ! Pd just 
send every chick and child home, and let Miss 


I 


172 NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 

Nimpo take her supper alone, to pay her off! 
Things have come to a pretty pass, I think I ” 

“I never did see!” ejaculated Mrs. Primkins, 
not yet recovering her ordinary powers of speech. 

“Shall I go and meet them, and send them 
packing?” said Augusta. 

“ No,” said Mrs. Primkins reluctantly, remem- 
bering the unbroken bill in her “upper drawer.” 
“ I do’ know’s I have a right to send them home. 
I didn’t tell her how many ; but land ! who’d dream 
of such a raft ! If there’s one there’s forty I do 
declare ! ” Here a new idea struck her. “ But 
those dishes ! and that table ! for such a crowd ! 
Augusta,” hastily, “fly round like a parched pea, 
and lock the doors of the room till T think what 
we can do. This is a party with a vengeance ! ” 
Augusta ran up-stairs — and was hardly in the 
room before the girls crowded into the front 
chamber. 

Being a “ party,” of course they had to go into 
the house, but as soon as they had thrown off 
their sun-bonnets, which was in about a second, 
and begun to look around the bare room to -see 


MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 


173 


what they should do next, Nimpo was seized 
with a bright idea. 

“ Girls, let’s go out in the yard and play till tea-' 
time.” The next moment sun-bonnets were re- 
sumed, and the whole troop tramped down the 
back stairs, and in two minutes were deep in the 
game of “Pom, Pom, peel away.” 

Now was Mrs. Primkins’ chance. She hastily 
sent Augusta to the neighbors — letting her out 
the front door so the “ party ” should not see 
her — to beg or borrow something to feed the 
crowd, for her own pantry could furnish but one 
loaf of bread, and a few doughnuts, and there 
wasn’t such a thing as a bakery in the village. 
As soon as she was gone, Mrs. Primkins cleared 
the table up-stairs, hid the small biscuits and mi- 
nute slices of cake, and brought tables from other 
rooms to lengthen out the one already there. She 
then carried every plate, and cup, and glass, of 
her own up there, and made several surreptitious 
journeys to accommodating neighbors, to borrow, 
telling the news and getting their sympathy in 
her trials, so that they freely dent their dishes. 


174 


N/MFO’S TROUBLES. 


and even sent their boys to carry them over, and 
their big girls to help arrange. For an hour the 
games went on, in the side yard, while a steady 
stream came in at the front door, — the imposing 
front door 1 and up the august front stairs ! — car- 
rying bread, cake, dishes, sauces, etc., etc., till 
there was a tolerable supply, and Mrs. Primkins 
was in debt numerous loaves of bread and cake,, 
and dishes of sweatmeats. 

At five o’clock they were called in and before 
their sharp young appetites every thing disap- 
peared like dew in the sunshine. It was a queer 
meal, — bread of various shapes and kinds, and not 
a large supply; cakes, an equally miscellaneous 
collection, from cup cake which old Mrs. Kellogg 
had kept in a jar two months “ in case any body 
dropped in unexpected,” to bread cake fresh from 
somebody else’s oven; cookies of a dozen kinds 
and shapes, generally very plain; doughnuts and 
ginger cakes, and half a dozen dishes of “pre- 
serves,” no two alike. But all deficiencies were 
nothing to them when they came to the nuts and 
candies, for of these there was no lack. Augusta 


PRIM KINS IS SURPRISED. 


175 


had filled every extra dish in the house with the 
delicious things, and no doubt the children ate 
shocking amounts of trash. 

But they had a splendid time. The entertain- 
ment was exactly to their liking : little bread and 
butter, and much candy and raisins. 

After disposing of every thing on the table, 
except a little candy which Nimpo insisted on 
their pocketing, they flocked into the front room, 
where Mrs. Primkins told them they might play 
awhile, if they wouldn’t make a noise, as a little 
sprinkle of rain had come up. 

To insure quiet, every girl took ofi* her shoes, 
and played in stocking feet, on the bare, rough 
floor, for an hour. Suddenly Nimpo held up her 
foot. 

“ Girls, look a there ! ” The soles of her stock- 
ings were in awful holes. Her tone was tragic, 
all eyes were instantly turned on her, and forty 
feet were simultaneously elevated to view. The 
tale was the same ! every stocking sole was black 
as the ground, and worn to rags ! 

'‘‘‘What wiH ma say r rose in horror to every lip. 


176 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


This terrible thought sobered them at once, and 
finding it time to go, shoes were hastily sought 
out of the pile in the corner, sun-bonnets donned, 
and slowly the long procession moved down the 
back stairs, and out on to the street, while Nim- 
po flung herself on to the little bed in her room, 
and sighed with happiness, “0 wasn’t it just 
splendid; and I know mother’ll forgive my stock- 
ings, besides I’ll wash them myself and darn them, 
so Mrs. Prim kins sha’n’t see them.” 

When it was all' over, and Mrs. Primkins and 
Augusta, assisted by two or three neighbors, had 
cleared up, — washed and returned dishes; brought 
Sown tables and chairs; swept out front hall, and 
reduced it .to its normal condition of dismal stiff- 
ness; and the neighbors had gone home, — Augusta 
sat down to reckon up debts, while Mrs. Primkins 
“set the bread.” Augusta brought out a paper 
she had kept, and read — 

“ ‘Mrs. A. loaves of bread ; cake. 

Mrs. B. “ “ “ “ 

Mrs. C. “ “ 1 dish preserves.”* 


and so on. 


MRS. PRIMKINS IS SURPRISED. 


177 


Mrs. Primldns listened to the whole list, and 
made a mental calculation of how much of the 
ten dollars it would take to pay up. The calcula- 
tion must have been satisfactory for her face re- 
laxed almost into a smile, as she set the pan on 
the table, covered the sponge, and washed her 
hands. 

“Well, don’t let your pa get away in the morn- 
ing, till he splits up a good pile of oven wood. 
We’ll heat up the brick oven, and have over Mis’ 
Kent’s Mary Ann to help. I guess the money’ll 
cover the expenses, an’ I can pay Mary Ann in 
cold victuals.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS’. 

“ Nimp,” shouted Rush, meeting her on the 
street, slowly walking home from school, a few 
days after the birthday, “there’s a party at our 
house ! ” 

“ I guess not ! Mrs. Primkins have a party 1 
I think I see her ! ” said Nimpo scornfully. 

“ But there is,” went on Rush eagerly, “ I saw 
’em ! The parlor is full, and the windows are 
open — and the front hall is full of ladies.” 

“Oh yes,” said Nimpo; “come to think, it’s the 
Sewing Society. I forgot it was going to meet 
there to-day.” 

“ And there’s lots of goodies for tea,” Rush went 
on in a lower tone, dancing along by the side of 
the girls, for as usual Anna Morris was wuth Nim- 
po. “I peeked into the pantry, and saw. Au- 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMATINS*. 179 


gusta is setting the table in the dining-room — an 
awful long table — ’n there’s raisin cake, ’n plum 
preserves, ’ri cookies, ’n biscuits, ’n cold tongue, — 
ain’t it jolly ? ” 

“ I suppose Mrs. Primkins would have a nice 
tea for the Sewing Society, if we do always have 
just bread and milk or something like that,” said 
Nimpo, “but it must seem funny to have the ta- 
ble in the dining-room.” 

“ I wonder if we can go -to the first table,” said 
Push anxiously, just remembering that there were 
a good many people to take tea. 

“Of course not,” said Anna in a superior way, 
“we always have to wait when ma has Sewing 
Society. There’s never room. But it’s nicer so, 
because every body’s busy, and we can do as 
we’re a mind to. We can ’most always have 
as much cake as we can eat — if there’s enough 
left.” 

I can always have as much cake as I want 
when mother’s home,” said Nimpo, in her loftiest 
manner. 

Anna looked in amazement at the girl who 


180 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


could have as much cake as she wanted, but 
Kush burst out, 

“ Well I can’t then ! I never had enough cake. 
I hope old Primkins made a stack of it this 
time.” 

“ You may be sure she didn’t,” said Nimpo, 
“ and she’ll not be too busy to put every bit away 
except two small pieces for us — see if she is ! I 
shouldn’t wonder if she gave us our supper in the 
kitchen after all, it’s just like her.” 

“Well — we won’t be there very long anyway, 
that’s one good thing,” said Kush. “ It seems as 
if mother’d been gone a year.” 

“So it does,” said Nimpo. “I never thought 
weeks could be so long,” and she stopped before 
the gate. 

Sure enough, the house wore a very unusual 
look. The front windows open ; the green shades 
rolled up, letting the afternoon sun stream in 
over the gay carpet, and over groups of ladies 
engaged in talking, and sewing; and worse still 
the front door open and the solemn front hall, 
which Nimpo could only think of as pitch dark 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS\ 181 


and smelling of varnish, all light, and full of 
busy workers, who had been crowded out of 
the small parlor. 

Nimpo stole in quietly, and slipped around to the 
back door. On entering the kitchen, she found 
Mrs. Primkins and Augusta hurrying about, cut- 
ting cake, and dishing out sweetmeats from two 
big stone jars. She paused a moment, as what 
hungry school girl would not, but Mrs. Primkins 
spoke, 

“ Go ’way now, children ! Don’t bother I ” 

“Had I better — shall I put on another dress?” 
asked Nimpo hesitating, not knowing how much 
she would be expected to mingle with the guests. 

“No, I do’ know’s there’s any need,” said Mrs. 
Primkins, “you haven’t any call to go into the 
front room, an’ of course there won’t be room for 
you at the first table.” 

Nimpo felt a lump in her throat, and the tears 
came very near to her eyes. Not because she 
cared for the company, for she was naturally 
shy, and preferred to be in the background, but 
this cool way of putting her into the kitchen 


182 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


made her desperately homesick for a moment. 
She was going quietly to her room, but Rush 
was not so easily silenced. 

“Ain’t we going to have any supper?” he de- 
manded. 

“Of course,” said Mrs. Primkins shortly; “but 
you’ll take it at the second table, where there’ll 
be only Augusta and Mis’ Willard’s Jane — what 
% she brought her along for, I can’t make out,” 
she added to herself 

“Can’t we have any cake’n things?” Rush 
went on, his boyish appetite getting the better 
of his indignation at being treated so. 

Mrs. Primkins turned towards him, with carv- 
ing knife held suspended over the loaf of cake 
she was cutting into wedges, and said severely, 

“If you behave yourself, and keep out of the 
way, you will have a piece of tea cake, and a 
dish of sauce; if you’re a bother, not a crumb 
will you get but good, wholesome bread and 
butter, — and that’s good enough for anybody,” 
she added. 

Quite quenched. Rush stole up-stairs after Nim- 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS\ 183 

po, and they had a good homesick talk together 
for a little while. But boyhood isn’t easily kept 
down, and before long Eush was in the upper 
front hall, looking over the banisters at the com- 
pany below, and running back to tell Nimpo who 
was there, while she, scorning to enjoy society in 
that surreptitious way, busied herself with her 
kitten, nursing her homesick feelings, and pour- 
ing out her woes to the sympathizing Squitz. 

Sitting at the foot of the stairs, busily stitching 
away at a piece of muslin, was Rush’s special an- 
tipathy — Miss Jones. She was a lady of about 
fifty years, who wore glasses, little corkscrew 
curls, “skimpy” black dresses, and “minced” as 
she walked. This lady had forgotten that she 
was ever young — if indeed she ever had been, 
which was impossible to imagine. She had a hor- 
ror of children, especially boys. She was always 
looking out for sticky fingers, and muddy shoes, 
and waving away every child who was unfortu- 
nate enough to approach her. 

Naturally this made her the object of all the 
boyish mischief in the village, and it was particu- 


184 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


larly unfortunate that she had seated herself in 
so tempting a position, for an aching desire to 
throw something down on her tormented Kush 
from the moment he discovered her. A wriggling 
worm now, or a spider, dropped into her lap to 
make her jump and scream; or a few drops of 
water sprinkled over her, would be such fun. But 
though he searched diligently, Mrs. Primkins was 
far too thorough with her broom to encourage the 
residence of any peace-loving spider under her 
roof, and the drops of water — though tempting — 
would be sure to suggest “ boys ” to her suspicious 
mind, and that involved the danger of losing his 
one poor little piece of cake. So he contented 
himself — in a measure — by bringing the pillow 
from his room, and making believe to himself that 
he was going to throw it down to break the high 
shell comb, which stood upon her head like a 
banner, guarding a thin wisp of hair. 

Now whatever was the matter that unlucky 
afternoon; whether the thread which sewed the 
pillow was worthless; whether the ticking had 
become worn ; or whether the unusual self-control 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS\ 185 


of the boy in only pretending to throw it, was too 
much for him, it happened thus. He brought 
down the pillow with a bang on the banister two 
or three times, and finding that Miss Jones was 
too busy talking to hear it, he collected his ener- 
gies for a final slap, intending to make a noise 
that she should hear, and then quietly slip back 
into his own room before she saw him. 

But alas for Kush! the blow was too hard for 
the pillow — ^it burst! — and a cloud of feathers 
filled the air. There was a low exclamation of 
horror — a hasty scamper of feet — a rush down the 
back stairs — a slam of the lower door — and Rush 
was gone! 

But how shall I paint the scene in the hall when 
the shower of feathers fiuttered down, all over the 
“spick and span” black dress of Miss Jones, nest- 
ling in her hair, clinging fondly to her worsted 
drapery, sticking tight to her sleeve. And not 
only that, but sailing impartially over all the 
ladies near, sticking with the well-known tenacity 
of feathers, to dresses and hair, and — horror of 
horrors! — covering the immaculate carpet, where 


186 


N/MPO’S TROUBLES. 


foot of child never came, and where broom and 
dust-pan had things all their own way. 

The bountiful contents of that pillow were not 
confined to the hall; the parlor came in for a 
share. The summer breeze scattered them freely, 
right and left, even through the door into the din- 
ing-room, which Mrs. Primkins opened in haste, 
when she heard the confusion. 

For confusion there was! vast and dire, from 
the jump and scream of Miss Jones (which poor 
Kush didn’t see after all, though it was ten times 
worse than he had thought), till every lady threw 
down her work and devoted her undivided ener- 
gies to pulling off feathers from hair and dress. 
But each liberated feather cheerfully flew off in 
the air and settled on some one else, so the labor 
was without result, — except great confusion of 
tongues. 

The noise brought Mrs. Primkins, but who 
shall tell her feelings? As soon as she heard 
from which direction the shower came, her quick 
thought pounced on the cause. 

“That pesky boy!” was her exclamation, and 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS\ 187 


she fairly bounded up-stairs to seize the culprit. 
No culprit was there — luckily for his bones! — 
nothing but the collapsed pillow to tell the tale. 
She wildly rushed to the attic, and found Nimpo 
alone with the kitten, and so serene and uncon- 
scious that even she couldn’t suspect her. 

“Where’s Kush?” she shouted, in a tone that, 
added to her wild look, frightened Nimpo with 
the thought that she had suddenly gone crazy. 
The kitten fell to the floor, and Nimpo prepared 
for flight. 

“Where’s Rush, I say?” repeated Mrs. Prim- 
kins threateningly. 

“I — I — don’t know,” stammered Nimpo. 

“Isn’t he hid here?” was the next question, 
emphasized by a most vigorous search, under 
beds, behind boxes where a cat could not have 
crawled, out on the roof, behind pillows. It lasted 
but a minute, but it was exhaustive, — not a mouse 
could have escaped that searching eye. 

“What’s the matter?” gasped Nimpo. 

“Matter enough I” said Mrs. Primkins angrily; 
“just let me lay my hands on him, and I’ll teach 


188 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


him a lesson he won’t forget the longest day he 
lives ! ” and she rushed down-stairs again. Nim- 
po followed her, with a vague idea of rescuing 
Eush from her insane clutches, for, though she 
was frightened half out of her wits, she did not 
forget that she was Eush’s protector while mother 
was gone. 

When she reached the front part of the house 
— now in such unwonted bustle — she compre- 
hended the trouble, and was not surprised at 
Mrs. Primkins’ excitement, while she devoutly 
hoped Eush would keep out of the way. 

Brooms and brushes and busy fingers, after a 
while, restored a measure of order to the startled 
Sewing Society, and it gathered around the table 
to soothe its ruffled feelings with numerous cups 
of tea. Till now Nimpo had been glad that Eush 
did not come back, but as night came on, and 
tea was over, and she went down to the cheer- 
less “second table,” a great dread came into her 
heart. 

“ Has Eush run away again ? ” was the thought 
that gave her anxiety. 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS\ 189 


Mrs. Primkins was more quiet — tea had soothed 
her too, but she did not speak of Rush, and no 
plate was set for him. 

Nimpo choked down part of a biscuit and her 
dish of sweetmeats, but her slice of cake she 
slyly slipped into her pocket, with a biscuit, for 
Rush if he did come back, though the horror was 
growing on her that she should never see him 
again, and “What would mother say?” 

Silently she left the table, and returned to her 
own room, where she sat by the open window, 
with her only comfort — her kitten — and cried, 
and talked to it, and longed for home and mother, 
and, in fact, was as miser-able and homesick as a 
girl can be. 

Hours passed away; the company went home, 
and the Primkins’ family went to bed. Nimpo 
could not go to bed, anxiety kept her wide awake. 
So she still sat by the window with her sound- 
asleep kitten in her arms, when — about ten o’clock 
— she heard a noise in the yard. A scramble — 
a scrape — and something crawled from the fence 
on to the roof of the kitchen under her window.. 


190 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


She was frightened, and rose to shut the window, 
but a thought struck her. 

“ Kush, is that you ? ” she whispered. 

“ Yes,” was the answer. 

“Be careful and don’t fall,” she said hastily, 
“and come to my window, it’s easier to get in.” 

A moment more and he scrambled in, hatless, 
dusty, and altogether looking as though he had 
been sleeping under a hedge with the gipseys. 

“Where have you been?” was Nimpo’s first 
question, when she had carefully locked the door 
(by putting a chair against it). 

“ Down back of our house,” said Kush doggedly, 
“an’ I haven’t had a thing to eat — an’ what did 
she say, Nimp?” 

“ Oh she was awful ! ” said Nimpo. “ I thought 
she was crazy! It was good you weren’t here. 
I believe she would have half killed you 1 I never 
saw her so mad.” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to,” said Kush, “but I 
knew she wouldn’t believe a fellow, — she never 
does, — so I just thought I’d scatter, and I didn’t 
dare to come back. What did Miss Jones do?” 


SEWING SOCIETY AT MRS. PRIMKINS\ 191 


he asked with interest; “if it hadn’t been for her 
I shouldn’t have thought of it. I hope she got a 
lot on her ! ” 

Nimpo laughed faintly — the first time since the 
accident — at the picture she remembered of Miss 
Jones dancing wildly around, picking off feathers 
with both hands. 

“But it was awful, Kush! You never saw such 
a fuss! — they went all over the parlor, and into 
the dining-room. Every lady in there was cov- 
ered, and they had to sweep, and it was an hour 
before they could sit down.” 

“I suppose old Primkins’ll be mad enough to 
eat me in the morning,” said Rush gloomily. 
“ What would you do, Nimp ? would you go down 
to the store and stay ? ” 

“You can’t,” said Nimpo; “but I guess she 
won’t by morning. She didn’t say any thing 
when I went to tea. Oh ! — here’s a piece of cake 
I saved for you, and a biscuit,” she went on, 
giving him the unusual dainties. 

“Thank you,” said Rush quite humbly. “I’m 
most starved, ’n you’re real good, Nimp.” 


192 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“I’m glad it’s most time for the folks to come 
home,” said Nimpo irrelevantly, with a sigh. 

“So’m I,’* said Kush, with his mouth full of 
cake. 

By morning Mrs. Primkins had time to get cool, 
and to reflect that after all, it was no doubt an 
accident, for Kush — though full of fun — was not 
malicious, and it could be paid for also. So when 
Kush timidly slunk in to breakfast and slid into 
his seat, she said nothing, but, 

“Humph! I shall charge your pa with three 
pounds of live geese feathers, young man.” 

Nimpo breathed more freely, and consoled her- 
self with the thought — 

“Well, mother won’t make a fuss, and I don’t 
believe feathers cost much anyhow.” 


CHAPTEE XX. 


NIMPO RIDES HORSEBACK. 

Nimpo fully intended to be, or do, something 
wonderful in the world — something quite out of 
the ordinary way. What it would be, she couldn’t 
exactly decide. 

For a long time she thought it would be nice 
to be a poet, to wear her hair in long curls, and 
always look sad; and secretly, in the solitude of 
her own room, spurred on by the wonderful stories 
of infant poets, she had now and then attempted 
to make verses. 

She never had the least trouble with the first 
line. That would always roll off poetical and 
grand; the second line was the hard one. There 
was the rhyme — to begin with, and then she was 
prejudiced with the idea that it must have some 
13 


194 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


sense in it, which naturally limited her freedom. 
I’m obliged to acknowledge that with all her 
yearnings poor Nimpo never got beyond the first 
line. 

This was truly discouraging, and she next tried 
her hand at prose writing. In this she had no 
difficulty about stringing words together, and get- 
ting her gorgeously arrayed heroine into fearful 
troubles and horrifying perils, but to bring her 
out safely and smoothly again with any show of 
probability, and, worst of all, to read again what 
she had scribbled so hurriedly in the excitement of 
composition, were really tasks beyond her powers. 

She became more modest in her ambitions, and 
her next fancy was to learn to ride on horseback. 
Her father owned a horse, a gentle old white 
horse, perfectly safe for any body, and while he 
was away Charley stood most of the time idle, in 
the stable. Nimpo thought it would be a splen- 
did time to begin. She did not tell Kush, be- 
cause he could ride already, and was so impor- 
tant and patronizing that it vexed her very soul, 
but she confided her whole plan to Anna Mor- 


NIMPO RIDES HORSEBACK. 


195 


ris, and one day when Eush was spending the 
day with Johnny Stevens, she and Anna went to 
the house. 

Old Charley stood in the stall, contentedly 
munching hay, the bridle hung on a peg near 
by, and the saddle was thrown across an old 
sleigh in the corner. 

“ Nimpo,” said Anna, “ can you saddle a horse ? ” 

“ Of course I can ! ” said Nimpo scornfully. 
“ Rush does it every day, and I guess I can do it 
if he can.” 

This was said very boldly ; but if the truth must 
be told, Nimpo quaked to the very sole of her 
shoes. She had often fed old Charley with grass 
and apples, but somehow when she stood by him 
in the stall, he seemed so big and strong she was 
afraid of him. However, she knew he was harm- 
less, and she was bound to behave like the heroine 
she had set out to be. Bravely she walked up to 
his head. 

The honest old fellow thought she had come to 
bring him an apple, so he turned his head around 
quickly. ^ • 


196 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“Whoa!” shouted Nimpo. Trembling, she un- 
tied his halter, and stepping outside the stall, tried 
to pull him out. But he was contented, and had 
no idea of stirring. Her gentle pull did not dis- 
turb him much. He just tossed his head, and 
jerked the halter out of her hand. 

Nimpo gave a little scream. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Anna anxiously, 
standing safely out by the door. 

“ He won’t come out, — and he jerked the halter 
away,” said Nimpo. 

“ Ain’t you afraid of him ? — ^you better wait till 
Kush comes,” said timid Anna. 

“ Not 1 1 ” said Nimpo bravely, getting hold of 
the halter again. “He would laugh at me.” 

This time she stood at his head and said, “ Back, 
sir I ” to him. Charley seemed to take it as a joke, 
and looked good-naturedly at her. But Nimpo 
began to be vexed, and she gave him a gentle 
slap or two, and at last he slowly backed out of 
the stall. 

Nimpo led him into the yard. Meantime Anna 
had brought the bridle. 


NIMPO RIDES HORSEBACR'. 


197 


“How do they get this on?” asked Anna. 

“Oh easy enough I” said Nimpo. “I’ve seen 
Eush. You just hold on to this lock of hair, 
while I pull off the halter.” 

“I’m afraid to touch him,” said Anna. 

“Fiddlesticks!” said Nimpo. “He won’t hurt 
you, I’ve fed him a hundred times.” 

Anna seized the lock of hair which hung down 
between his ears, and Nimpo pulled off the halter. 
Then she took the bridle. 

“ First they put in the bits,” said she. “ Char- 
ley, open your mouth ! ” 

Charley looked at her — but did not mind. 

“ Charley I ” said she, very severely, “ open your 
mouth, sir 1 Oh dear I what do they say to horses, 
I wonder?” 

“Seems to me,” said Anna, “I’ve heard that 
they hold a horse’s nose to make him open his 
mouth.” 

“Well, you hold it, while I get the bits in,” 
said Nimpo. 

Anna grasped Charley’s nose, whereupon he 
gave a great snort, jerked away, pranced across 


198 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


the yard, and in the further corner turned and 
looked at them wickedly. 

Both the girls yelled “ whoa ! ” and ran after 
him. 

But his long rest had made him frisky, and a 
fine chase they had, through the garden, across 
the barnyard, up to the front gate, and back to 
the stable. 

Panting and heated, with dresses all dirt, and 
shoes all wet, they at last — with the help of an 
apple — caught him again. When he opened his 
mouth to take the apple, Nimpo basely imposed 
upon him, and slipped the bits in. 

The next thing was to get the bridle over his 
ears. She could not pull it over, with all her tug- 
ging, and she did not dare to bend his ears down, 
for fear it would hurt him. 

“ Oh dear ! ” she exclaimed in dismay, “ how do 
they get his ears in ? ’’ 

“Don’t they unbuckle it?” asked Anna. 

“ I don’t see any place,” said Nimpo. “ I won- 
der if it will hurt if I bend them over.” 

“ I guess not, try it carefully,” said Anna. 


NIMPO RIDES DOR SEP A cm. 


199 


So Nimpo, holding on tightly to the bridle so 
the bit should not slip out, made one or two ex- 
periments, and finding that he took no notice, she 
boldly bent the ears down, and slipped it to its 
place. 

“ There ! ” she said exultantly, “ now I guess 
we’ve got him ! Now for the saddle, will you 
get it?” 

Anna dragged it out, but could not lift it up. 
Then Nimpo tied Charley to the fence, and both 
tried to lift it up — without success. At last Anna 
established herself on the wood-pile, holding the 
saddle, while Nimpo tried to lead Charley up so 
that she could throw it on. But Charley was not 
anxious to wear the saddle, and she had to lead 
him up about a dozen times before he would go 
near enough. 

Then Anna had to throw it, and it came so sud- 
denly, it made Charley jump. Both girls shouted 
“whoa!” again, but Nimpo held on well, so he 
didn’t get away. 

“Now, Anna,” said Nimpo, “you hold the bri- 
dle while I buckle up the straps.” 


200 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Anna, sitting on the wood-pile, took the bridle, 
and Nimpo proceeded to fasten on the saddle. 

“Oh dear!” she said, after trying a few min- 
utes, “I can’t get it up to the hole, — it’s too 
tight!” 

“They always make it tight,” said Anna. 

“But this will hurt him, I know,” answered 
Nimpo. “ I’ll have to let it be in the next hole,” 
which she did. 

“Now he’s ready,” said Anna; “how’ll you 
get on?” 

“ I’ll get on the fence, and you lead him 
up.” 

No sooner said than done. Nimpo mounted the 
fence, and after several trials, Anna succeeded in 
inducing him to walk near enough for Nimpo 
to seize the horn of the saddle, and very careful- 
ly seat herself — ^feeling dreadfully insecure and 
shaky. 

“ I don’t see how they keep on,” she said. “ I 
know I should fall if Charley took a step.” 

“I know,” said Anna, “put your knee over that 
horn, and the other foot in the stirrup.” 


NIMPO RIDES HORSE BA CRT. 


201 


Nimpo did so, but still she had to hold on with 
both hands. 

Anna kept the bridle and led him up and down 
from the front gate to the stable, till Nimpo was 
a little used to it, and felt somewhat safer. 

“Now I’ll take the bridle myself and drive,” 
she said. 

Anna handed it up, and Nimpo drove off, up 
and down. 

“Oh I shall soon learn!” she said bravely; “it’s 
real easy now. But this yard’s so small; I’ve 
a good mind to go out in the street a little 
way.” 

“ But how you’ll look without any riding skirt I ” 
said Anna. 

“I can get a skirt,” said Nimpo — her courage 
rising — “I’ll take mother’s black alpaca skirt.” 

“ Perhaps she won’t like it,” suggested Anna. 

“ Oh she won’t care 1 ” said Nimpo, “ will you 
go in and get it?” 

Anna said she would, and while she was gone 
Nimpo rode up and down once or twice, and when 
she came out, Nimpo rode up to the wood-pile. 


202 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


and Anna held Charley while she got off, slipped 
the skirt on, and climbed back again. 

Then she felt very fine and young-lady-ish, with 
her long black skirt, although she also had on a 
brown gingham waist, and a slat sun-bonnet. 

“ Now, Anna,” she said with dignity, “ open the 
gate, and let me ride out.” 

Anna opened the gate. 

“ Don’t you stay long,” she called after her, “ or 
I’ll go home.” 

“ I won’t,” replied Nimpo. 

For a little way Charley walked on as usual, 
and Nimpo felt quite important, sitting up very 
straight, and looking as imposing and as much 
like a heroine as she could under the circum- 
stances. 

But in a minute or two, Charley set up a trot. 
The first jounce brought a little scream and a 
violent “ whoa ! ” from Nimpo ; but Charley didn’t 
care a bit for that; on he trotted, and Nimpo, 
jarred and jolted, held on with both hands feeling 
that every moment was her last. Her bonnet 
fell back, and her skirt blew up. To add to her 


NIMPO RIDES HORSEBACK, 


203 


troubles, some boys saw her and shouted, and 
started old Charley into a gallop. 

That was easier to endure, but Nimpo felt that 
she couldn’t hold on another minute, when they 
came to the creek. There was a bridge, but — 
alas ! — there was also a ford, and Charley gener- 
ally had a drink there. So down he marched, — 
in spite of Nimpo’s elForts — away into the middle 
of the creek, before he stopped to drink. 

Then Nimpo straightened up and prepared to 
resume her dignity, but at that fatal moment the 
bridle fell over Charley’s head. 

“ Now I can never get him home,” said Nimpo 
in despair. “ Oh dear, what shall I do ! — and I 
do believe this horrid old saddle’s coming off.” 

True enough, it was slowly turning, and Nimpo 
saw that she must go into the water. She had 
just time to draw her foot out of the stirrup, and 
seize old Charley’s mane, when the saddle slid 
over, and plump she went into the middle of the 
stream, which fortunately was not much more 
thaji a foot deep. 

Charley looked around at her, and then went 


204 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


on with his drinking. Nimpo gathered up her 
skirt, and very wet, and very hot, she seized the 
bridle and dragged the animal out. On the bank 
a good-natured boy slipped the saddle up to its 
place, and Nimpo started for home, leading the 
horse, and dragging her mother’s dress through 
the dust. 

The boys laughed and shouted at her, but she 
pulled her friendly sun-bonnet over her burning 
face, and, wet and draggled, she at last reached 
home. Anna sympathized with her, and they 
tied old Charley in the stall, bridle and all. And 
great was the wonder of Cousin Will that night, 
when he went to feed Charley, to find him sad- 
dled and bridled. 

“Eush,” asked Nimpo the next time she saw 
him, in a careless sort of way, “how do you get 
the bits into a horse’s mouth?” 

“Just stick in your thumb back of the front 
teeth,” said Kush, “and poke it right open.” 

“ Humph ! ” said Nimpo, “ I think I see myself 
putting my thumbs into a horse’s mouth ! ” 

“Oh, that’s nothing!” said Eush, scornfully. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE FATE OF NIMPO’S DOLL. 

“Anna,” said Nimpo, the next day, “you re- 
member that cunning little girl at Sarah’s?” 

“Yes,” said Anna. “You mean the one with 
the yellow flannel frock.” 

“Well, I’ve been thinking about her, and I’m 
going to give her my doll.” 

“ What, your big one that your mother made ? ” 
asked Anna, aghast. 

“Yes. I don’t want it any more, and I most 
know she hasn’t any.” 

“What’ll your mother say?” asked Anna. 

“Mother won’t care. It’s been lying in the 
attic ever so long, and I don’t know as I can find 
her dress. Come over after school and help me 
fix her up, and we’ll go out to Sarah’s with it. 
Will you?” 


206 


NJMFO’S TROUBLES. 


“ Yes, and maybe Sarah’ll tell us another story,” 
said Anna, eagerly. 

After school the neglected doll was hunted up, 
and a droll looking object she was, with her face 
very dirty, and half the hair gone from her head. 
Her limbs were all there, for she was not one of 
your store dolls, whose legs and arms are held by 
one stitch. This doll was of home manufacture, 
and I’m afraid you young girls with your dolls of 
wax and bisque would turn up your nose at her, 
and call her a rag-baby. 

I don’t suppose you ever saw one of her kind, 
so I will tell you about her. Her body was cut 
and made, by Nimpo’s mother, of stout cotton. 
Her arms were made of kid. Her head was about 
the size, and nearly the shape, of an ordinary 
sauce plate, made of cotton also, and ornamented 
on the face with the brightest of red lips and 
cheeks, and the bluest of eyes, all done in oil 
paint, and on the back, covered with a grand wig 
of real hair, which hung down her back in ring- 
lets. Her head was covered with black to hide 
any shortcomings in the curls. When she came 


THE FATE OF NIMPO^S DOLL. 


207 


in Nimpo’s Christmas stocking, two or three years 
before, she was completely dressed, from her red 
morocco shoes, to a black silk dress and quilted 
hood; and every thing would come oif, which was 
a rare virtue in those days. 

It took so long to hunt up her clothes, that it 
was almost dark when Anna and Nimpo reached 
the log house in the woods. As they came near 
they heard singing and Nimpo whispered, 

“ Let’s go up still. I guess Sarah’s singing, and 
it’s real fun to hear her. We can hardly ever get 
her to sing.” 

So they stole up to the door, and looked in. 
There sat Sarah on a low stool before the fire, 
rolling from side to side in a kind of ecstacy, 
beating time with her hands and singing to the 
most unearthly, wailing tune, these words, 

“O come ’long, Moses, yo won’t get lost, 

Let my people go. 

■With a lighted can’l at yo breast, 

Let my people go. 

Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt’s land. 

Go an’ tell ole Pharo fur to let my people go.” 


208 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


“ Keep still ! ” whispered Nimpo, “ there’s lots 
more of it, it’s real funny.” 

Sarah went on: 

“0 take y’r shoes frum off y’r feet, 

Let my people go. 

■Walkin’ in de golden street, 

Let my people go. 

Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt’s land, 

Go an’ teU ole Pharo fur to let my people go.” 

Just then they heard the whole family returning 
from the woods, each one with an armful of wood. 
Sarah heard them too, and came out. She started 
when she saw the two girls. 

“Lor! how ye scairt me! y’r ma done come 
home ? ” 

“No,” said Nimpo. “I came to bring my doll 
to the little girl I saw here. 

“What! to Sabriny!” exclaimed Sarah, “won’t 
she be tickled ! Law ! she never saw such a pow- 
erful fine doll, let alone ownin’ on’t herself.” 

By that time the family had come in, and the 
doll was handed from one to the other, and praised, 
till Nimpo felt as though she had done some he- 


THE FATE OF NIMPO^S DOLL. 209 

roic tiling. As for the little Sabrina, as soon as 
she fairly got possession of the wonderful treasure, 
she disappeared in a dark corner of the room 
where she hugged and kissed it with as much 
affection as though it was one of the marvellous 
French dolls of our day. 

“ Sarah, won’t you tell us a story before we 
go?” said Nimpo coaxingly. 

“I’ll show ye somethin’ yo never saw, I reck- 
on,” said Sarah. “The day’s work’s all done put 
away. Mebby the chillen will show yo how we 
dance down Souf, whar we come from. Come, 
chillen, sing ‘My ole Massa.’” 

After some urging, the four older children stood 
up in the middle of the room, while the rest of 
the family with Nimpo and Anna, as spectators, 
sat around the edge. 

“ Yo sing, Sarah,” said her sister. So Sarah be- 
gan singing to one of their doleful airs, these 
words, 

“My ole massa built a bouse, fifteen stories bigb, 

An’ ebery room within that house, was filled with chicken 
pie.” 


14 


210 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


At this point the dancers, of whom there were 
two boys and two girls, locked arms in pairs, 
each boy and girl looking opposite ways, and 
whirled round and round while all sang this 
chorus — 

“Hi diddle, O jump candy, jump candy, jump candy!” 


Here they suddenly changed arms and danced 
the other way, singing — 

“Hi diddle, O jump candy. Hi diddle O, diddle E!” 

Then they stood in a row clasping hands, and 
all sang, 

“Kow, brothers, row, 

I’m lookin’ for a pretty little boy. 

I’m lookin’ for a pretty little boy, 

To feed him on sugar an’ tea.” 

Then Sarah began again, 

“My ole Massa went to town. 

On a load o’ peaches. 

The horse run ’way ’n broke his cart, 

Smash it all to pieces.” 


THE FATE OF NIMPO^S DOLL. 


211 


Then they locked arms as before, and danced, 
and sang the same chorus over again. 

Nimpo was perfectly delighted with the odd en- 
tertainment, but Anna looked as prim as though 
she had seen something dreadful. 

“Now tell us one story! Just a little teenty 
taunty bit of a one,” begged Nimpo. 

“Wall, how yo young uns do tease a body,” 
said Sarah. “ Did yo ever har ’bout Ole Leonard’s 
prayer ? ” 

“Oh no! tell us,” said Nimpo. 

“ Onct thar was a pore ole nigga,” began Sarah, 
“an’ he lived all ’lone by hisself in a miz’able 
cabin in the woods. An’ he work hard, ’n never 
had nuff to eat I reckon. One night he was tired 
’n hungry ’n he kneeled down to pray, ’n he 
prayed that ‘de angel ob de Lord would come 
and take de soul ob Leonard dis yer night.’ 
While he was a-prayin’ out loud that-a-way, two 
wicked young fellers was a-goin’ by, ’n they hars 
him, ’n says one, says he, ‘ Le’s scare Ole Leonard.’ 
So he c-r-e-p-t up to the do’ very keerful, an’ he 
guv three loud knocks. 


212 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


‘Who — who — who’s dar?’ says Leonard all in 
a trem’l. 

Then the wicked feller spoke up slow an’ sol- 
emn like, 

‘ De angel ob de Lord ! ’ 

— \vh — ^what de angel ob de Lord want?’ 
said Ole Leonard, his teeth jist a-chatterin’, he was 
that scairt. 

souH oh Leonard!' says the young feller. 

Pulf ! out went the can’l, into bed jumped Leon- 
ard, an’ kivered up his head, lettin’ out a yell as 
he went, 

^ Ain't no Leonard hyer!’” 

“ Is that all ? ” asked Nimpo after they had 
laughed at poor Leonard, “it’s awful short.” 

“ Laws a massy ! ” said Sarah with her face on 
a broad grin, “yo chillen’d set an’ bar stories 
tole till yo tuk root I reckon. Go long ! it’s 
mose night this very minute ! an’ Miss Primkins’ll 
be a-worryin’ ’bout yo.” 

“ Humph ! there’s no danger of that,” said Nim- 
po as she started to go — “she don’t know we’re 
here.” 


CHAPTER XXIL 


THE STOVE-PIPE HOLE IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM. 

The school-house was a long, two-story build- 
ing. In one end of it was a boys’ school, kept 
by Mr. Osgood, and in the other end the girls’ 
school, kept by Miss Osgood — his sister. 

The boys’ school admitted boarders from abroad, 
and the whole second story of the building was 
used as a sleeping room for them. 

In winter the girls’ room was warmed by a big 
stove, the pipe of which went through the floor 
of the boys’ sleeping room, and into the chim- 
ney from there. So in summer, when the stove 
was away, there was the stove-pipe hole looking 
down into the girls’ room. 

The seat under that hole, was both a delight 
and a torment to its owner. Sometimes as she 


214 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


sat studying, a fine red apple or rosy peach would 
fall plump into her lap; occasionally a handful of 
fiowers or bunch of wintergreen leaves would 
come instead; but oftenest of all, a tiny, note 
would flutter down before her, — sometimes ad- 
dressed to her, and sometimes to other girls. 

This was the pleasure of the seat, but there was 
a disagreeable side too — as there is to most things. 

Nimpo, who sat there at this time, would some- 
times have a handful of burs dropped on to her 
head, or a few drops of water sprinkled on her 
neck, making her start, and look up to catch a 
glimpse of a laughing face and wicked eyes. 

I should like to give you a specimen of the 
notes the boys wrote to the girls in those days. 
You’d hardly suspect your grave old fathers and 
uncles of such effusions as this, which is a literal 
copy of one, brown and worn with age, that 
Nimpo kept in a small box with other relics of 
those old days. 

The young gentleman — aged fourteen — was just 
beginning Latin, as you see, and the note was 
directed thus : 


THE STOVE-PIPE HOLE. 


215 


To be put in a hole in Nimpo Eievor’s blue tippet. 

Inside it read thus: 

Ego amo te. x-l-t-pipe. t-i-o-n shun, i-n-g, s-q-u-a-w 
Squaw, Injun Squaw, of the rantom scootum, riball roball, 
junification, table, nable, nation. 

You don’t know what all that stuff means ? No 
more did Nimpo, but she thought the Latin was 
learned, and the rest mysterious, and anyway it 
was something to be kept among the relics. 

You see how much better you boys of nowadays 
can write. 

Besides this surreptitious correspondence through 
the stove-pipe hole, Nimpo usually kept up a furi- 
ous correspondence with Anna Morris. You don’t 
know what they wanted to write for — when they 
met every day ? Nor do I — but they did. They 
had private and special names for each other, 
which no one knew till they “ got mad,” and told. 
Then when they “made up,” they only had to take 
new names and begin again. 

At this time Nimpo was “ Delia,” and Anna was 
“Alicia,” and I’m tempted to give you one of 


216 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


Alicia’s notes, which came from the same little 
box of relics. 

My veey deae Delia, 

it begins. 

It is with great pleasure that I sit down to answer your kind 
note. Don’t ask me to destroy — not your scribbles — but your 
notes, I must have some daily memento of my Delia’s affec- 
tion, though I well know it is not needful, for I know her 
devotion. I know but can not appreciate the interest you 
take in my welfare, and thanks amount to nothing only ac- 
cept my most adoring love, and be sure that no earthly ob- 
ject shall ever dare to rival you. How true the saying that 
youth and beauty soon decay, it seems but yesterday that I 
was seated on a bench at Miss Mark’s school, now we shall 
soon be old, and know no more the scenes of our youth, now 
so light and trifling. Kecollections hurl themselves upon my 
memory, the earliest infancy of our acquaintance steals its 
own remembrance and leads the pathway for the thousand 
succeeding events which have transpired. 

If poor Anna got beyond her depth along here, 
don’t you sometimes ? She little dreamed that she 
was writing for posterity. But to return to the 
little yellow note. 

I 


THE STOVE-PIPE HOLE. 


217 


Now let the past gurgle away into oblivion, and sensations 
be richer and more redundant with ample satisfaction. Tea 
is ready and I must go. Let not my dearest Delia forget her 
adoring 

Alicia. 

P. S. — I wear the key of my desk on my neck. 

After all, the girls of thirty years ago were not 

* 

so very different from you. I’ve seen school-girl 
notes within a year, that would do very well as 
companion pieces to this. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


THE LOVE LETTER. 

One day when Nimpo was busy, studying her 
geography, a note dropped from the stove-pipe 
hole on to the book before her. It was addressed 
to Nimpo, and in the corner “don’t tell,” and it 
was from the same young gentleman who wrote 
the first one. 

Nimpo hastily hid it in her pocket, till she had 
a good chance to open it, when what was her 
amazement to read the following. 

My Deaeest Nimpo: 

I love you so much I can hardly tell you how much I love 
you. Please do me the favor to marry me. I’ll give you five 
hundred dollars if you will be my wife. 

Master William Gaylord. 

Nimpo was shocked! Love letters written in 
Latin and other mysterious tongues, and not 


THE LOVE LETTER. 


219 


meaning any thing in particular, might do very 
well, but such a bold thing as this — in plain 
English too — was never heard of in that town. 
Willy Gaylord — who came from a far-off city — 
probably brought the fashion from home. 

At recess Nimpo put her arm around Anna 
Morris’s waist, and walked off, as indeed she 
always did, except during a temporary eclipse 
of their friendship. 

Out of hearing of the girls, Nimpo first made 
Anna promise not to tell in the school-girl’s most 
solemn oath — “ Sure’s I live and breathe and draw 
the breath of life,” and then showed her the dread- 
ful note. 

Anna was more sentimental than Nimpo, and 
she was disposed to look at it as the beginning 
of a brilliant career of society life. She clasped 
her hands, and said tragically, 

“ Oh, my dearest, dearest Delia has got a 
lover ! ” 

But Nimpo scornfully said, 

“ Fudge ! — he’s a goose ! Lover ! I guess so ! 
Nothing but a school -boy — with light hair! 


220 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Umph! When I have a lover, Miss Anna Morris, 
you’ll see a tall, dark — very dark — man, with hair 
and whiskers black as night, and magnificent 
eyes. There’ll be something mysterious about 
him, so he cant come to see me in the daytime, 
and I shall lean out my window and talk to him 
at night. But that won’t be for years yet — not 
till I’m seventeen at least.” 

“That’s more interesting, I know,” said Anna. 
“And that’s the way they are in books; but here 
you have got a lover, and you can’t help yourself.” 

“Humph! I’ll soon cure him!" said Nimpo 
energetically. 

“What’ll you do?” asked Anna looking — in 
spite of herself — with somewhat of awe at the 
girl who had a lover. 

“ I don’t know, — not speak to him I guess, and 
tear up his next note while he’s looking,” said 
Nimpo. 

“That’ll be a good way,” said Anna, and tl^at 
was the way decided on at last. 

So when school was out at noon, Nimpo never 
looked towards the street where, out of the cor- 


THE LOVE LETTER, 


221 


ner of her eye, she had seen Willy Gaylord wait- 
ing for her. And she went out of her usual way 
home with her arm fast locked in Anna’s. 

In the afternoon an anxious face peered down 
the stove-pipe hole. Then came a beautiful pear. 
It fell on Nimpo’s lap, but though pears were her 
delight, and this one looked especially fine, she 
sacrificed it, with a pang, and let it roll off on to 
the other side of the room, where Mamy Smith 
picked it up. 

Then came a note. This Nimpo took, and with- 
out looking up, deliberately tore into bits, as fine 
as she could, and then scattered them on the 
floor. 

One faint exclamation of hoiTor she heard from 
the stove-pipe hole, and then she heard no more, 
and that night Willy Gaylord didn’t wait for her, 
and “ all was over,” Anna Morris said. 

But all was not over, by any means ! for Willy 
didn’t take his cool rejection kindly. In fact he 
was just boiling over with rage, and racked his 
brain night and day for revenge. He soon hit 
on a plan to tease Nimpo. He boarded next door 


222 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


to Mrs. Primkins, and he had a pet dog, an ugly, 
yellow creature, that Nimpo particularly disliked. 

Willy went at once to work to teach this dog 
a new lesson. By means of bits of bread as 
bribes, and with much practice, Willy taught him 
in a few days so that he would come when called 
by a new name. Then all was ready, and he 
waited his chance. That evening he seated him- 
self on the front steps, with the dog playing in 
the grass. 

Waiting till Nimpo was walking by, he sud- 
denly held out a piece of bread and began calling, 

“ Nimpo, Nimpo, Nimpo ! ” 

Involuntarily Nimpo looked around. 

“ What do you want ? ” she said shortly. 

“Who spoke to you?” he said in blunt boy 
style. “ I was just calling my dog,” and sure 
enough the ugly cur ran up and took the bread. 

Nimpo went into Mrs. Primkins’, almost too 
much vexed to speak. 

“ The mean old thing ! ” she said to herself, 
“just to spite me! I’ll pay him off! I’ll name 
Mrs. Primkins’ rooster after him.” 


THE LOVE LETTER. 


223 


No sooner said than done. Providing herself 
with a handful of corn, Nimpo made a visit to 
the barnyard. 

The fowl in question was of a valuable kind, 
and Mrs. Primkins had only one pair. The hen 
was just now very much engaged with a numer- 
ous family of children, and never went out of 
her small coop. So the lonesome rooster stalked 
around in solitary dignity. 

Nimpo called him “Willy” and fed him, and 
every day she did it, till the intelligent fellow 
would cock his wise little head on one side and 
run at the name of Willy. 

Then came Nimpo’s turn. One evening when 
Willy lay on the grass under a tree, reading a 
book, Nimpo came out the side door, with a hand- 
ful of crumbs (she had previously opened the 
barnyard gate). 

“Willy, Willy, Willy!” she began, “here Willy, 
Willy 1 ” 

Willy Gaylord sprang up, only to see the gay 
rooster come running across the yard. 

“Poor Willy! good little Willy!” said Nimpo 


224 


NIMPO^S 7'ROUBLES. 


in a lower tone, “ do you want your supper ? and 

how’s Mrs. G to night? Do you feed her well, 

Willy? How soon will she be out, Willy?” 

And so she went on, while the original Willy 
sat and stared open-mouthed. 

“Now, Nimpo, that’s too bad!” he said at last. 

“It’s no meaner than your naming your dog 
after me,” said Nimpo. 

“Yes, it is,” said Willy, leaning on the fence, 
“because you named a whole family after me.” 

Nimpo laughed. 

“Come, let’s make up, Nimpo,” he said coax- 
ingly, “ I won’t write any more notes.” 

“Well,” said Nimpo. 

So that was the end of Nimpo’s first love afiair. 
That night Willy went down to the store and 
bought a tiny bit of a penknife — about half an 
inch long — with a hole in to put a string through. 
And the next morning, on the way to school he 
gave it to Nimpo as a peace-offering. 

Nimpo strung it on a blue ribbon and wore it 
on her neck, and the next hard thing she did was 
to make him a pocket pin-cushion. 


THE LOVE LETTER. 


225 


In those days girls had an idea that boys were 
in a chronic state of wanting a pin — as they were 
themselves — so on birthdays and at Christmas, 
every boy was well supplied with round flat 
things about as big as a silver half dollar, its 
edge gaily ornamented with pin heads. 

Nimpo made hers heart -shape — she got Au- 
gusta Primkins to cut it out, and spent laborious 
hours trying to make small stitches around the 
edge. But she hated sewing, and though she won 
Mrs. Primkins’ commendation for industry, noth- 
ing but a sense of duty carried her through the 
undertaking that lovely summer weather. Very 
glad she was, when the last pin was stuck in, and 
the whole thing handed over to the duly grateful 
Willy. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 

“Nimpo,” said Cousin Will one night, as she 
stopped at the store on her way home from school, 
“I received a letter from your father to-day; he 
wants me to go to Cleveland on business, and 
he says you may go, if you like, and stay all night 
at Mrs. Stuart’s.” 

“ Oh may I ? ” exclaimed Nimpo. “ Won’t that 
be splendid ! I haven’t seen Carrie Stuart for ever 
so long! When shall you go?” 

“To-morrow morning — if I can get a team,” 
answered Cousin Will. 

“Why! — don’t you go in the stage?” asked 
Nimpo. 

“No. Your father says I’m to take a pair of 
horses and a buggy, so as to go out of the stage 
route and stop at B on a little business.” 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


227 


“Oh I’m so glad! ” said Nimpo, “that’s so much 
nicer than stage, and we’ll be gone two whole 
days, won’t we?” 

“Yes,” said Cousin Will. 

Nimpo ran back to Anna Morris, to tell her 
the good news, and then went home and told 
Eush. 

Rush didn’t think the news was particularly 
good, he wanted to go himself. But Nimpo re- 
minded him that he went on the last trip of the 
kind with father himself, and of course that was 
nicer than going with Cousin Will, and he had 
no reason to complain. So, being on the whole 
reasonable — considering — he submitted and said 
no more, though he drew long sighs whenever it 
was mentioned. 

“What’ll you wear?” asked Mrs. Primkins, 
when she heard the news. 

“ Oh my green and white delaine,” said Nimpo, 
“it’s the best for a travelling dress. But it won’t 
look very well with my bonnet,” she added pres- 
ently, “for that is trimmed with blue to match 
my harege'' 


228 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“That don’t signify,” said Mrs. Primkins; “be- 
sides you better wear your school hat, in case of 
rain, and it looks ’mazingly like it. Your best 
bonnet’s a flimsy thing. I wonder your ma ever 
bought such an unpractical thing.” 

It was of delicate openwork material, very 
pretty for summer weather, but not just the thing 
for a two days’ ride. But Nimpo couldn’t endure 
the idea of going to Cleveland with a common 
school hat, so without saying any thing to Mrs. 
Primkins, she went down to the store and told 
Cousin Will her trouble. 

“Oh that’s nothing,” said he. “You can have 
a green ribbon if you want, out of the store.” 

Nimpo went around to the show-case, and in 
a few minutes selected the one she would have, — 
a lovely bright green. Cousin Will cut some off, 
and she hid it in her pocket and went back to 
Mrs. Primkins’. 

The trimming on bonnets was not quite so fussy 
in those days as that on your hats now, and 
Nimpo was sure that she could imitate the way 
the blue was put on, and make it look as well in 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


229 


green, and after some trials she did succeed pretty 
well. There was a ribbon over the top, a bow on 
one side, and a few loops in the white lace in 
front — that was all. 

The next morning she was up bright and early, 
with her delaine dress and her bonnet on, waiting 
for Cousin Will to drive up. 

“ Humph ! you got your bonnet fixed up green 
after all, didn’t you ? ” said Mrs. Primkins. 

“Yes,” said Nimpo, quietly, “I fixed it myself” 

“Well, it’s just a piece of vanity, that’s what 
it is ! — as if two colors made any difference ! ” 

“Oh, I couldn’t go to Carrie Stuart’s with a 
blue ribbon and a green dress,” said Nimpo, ear- 
nestly. “She has such nice things.” 

“She’s no better for that,” said Mrs. Primkins. 
“ My Augusty with her pink ribbon and blue 
dress is as good as she is, every bit and grain. 
I dare say now she’s as vain as a peacock.” 

“Indeed she isn’t!” said Nimpo, tears coming 
to her eyes. “ She’s just as sweet as she can be. 
There comes Will,” she added gladly, as a pair 
of horses drew up at the gate. 


230 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“ Nimpo,” called Cousin Will, “ bring a big 
shawl to cover you up, for I’m afraid it will 
rain.” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Primkins, “ and you better 
take my advice about your bonnet. That green 
ribbon’ll wash out like a rag.” 

“Oh, I can’t go there with my school hat,” 
said Nimpo. “We’ve got a covered buggy and 
I guess it won’t get wet, besides maybe it won’t 
rain,” and taking her shawl, she ran out. 

In a minute she was packed into the buggy, 
the shawl laid under the seat in case of need, 
and away they went. 

Nimpo was perfectly happy when she was rid- 
ing, and Ohio is a very pretty state to ride about 
in. There are woods, and streams, and hills, 
rocky places, ravines, and many other attractions. 
Cousin Will was occupied with his own thoughts, 
and Nimpo leaned back on the seat and devoured 
every thing with her eyes, and enjoyed the ride, 
and the scenery, and all. 

“I declare, I believe it is going to rain now,” 
said Cousin Will, after they had gone about ten 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


231 


miles. “ I hope it’ll be nothing but a shower, 
though.” 

“I like to ride in the rain,” said Nimpo, “and 
be all covered and wrapped up, and hear it patter 
on the carriage-top, and see the horses all shiny.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” said Cousin Will, “ that’s all very 
well to you, who are inside, and dry, but how do 
you suppose the horses like it?” 

“Oh, I like it to be out,” said Nimpo; “only 
it’s such a bother to change your clothes. If I 
was dressed in fur or feathers now, it would be 
splendid fun to be out in the rain.” 

“ Humph ! ” said Cousin Will, “ I wouldn’t.” 

Now the drops began to come, and the wind 
rose and blew the dust furiously. The horses 
seemed uneasy, and the rain changed to hail. 
Cousin* Will whipped up. 

“We must hurry on and get into somebody’s 
barn. I believe it’s going to be a bad storm.” 

So it proved. The rain came down in torrents, 
and the wind blew so that Nimpo was afraid it 
would carry off the buggy-top. In a few minutes 
they came to the open gate of a farmyard, and 


232 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


Cousin Will drove in without ceremony, stop- 
ping at last under a big shed, which amply 
covered horses, buggy, and all. 

Then the farmer came out with an umbrel- 
la,. and invited them into the house. They fas- 
tened the horses, gave them some hay, and then 
went in. 

The host took Nimpo into a large pleasant 
kitchen where a middle-aged woman, with a white 
cap tied under her chin, sat by the window — 
mending stockings. 

“Here, mother,” said the man, “here’s a poor 
child wet, and cold, and hungry I’ll warrant. 
Can’t you give her a bite to eat, and a dry rag 
to put on?” 

“ I guess I can,” said the woman rising, but 
Nimpo hastened to say, 

“Oh no, indeed! — I’m not wet, I can get dry 
here by the fire,” and she drew near the large open 
fire-place, where a splendid big wood fire was 
burning. 

“Well, you’re not very wet,” said the woman, 
“but I know you must be hungry.” 


THE GREEN RIBBON. 


233 


“We expect to stop for dinner at Green’s,” said 
Nimpo, “don’t trouble yourself about any thing 
to eat.” 

“ Green’s Tavern ! ” said the woman, “ you won’t 
get there this night, without I’m very much mis- 
taken. What do you say, father ? ” turning to the 
farmer who just came in with Cousin Will, “ ain’t 
we iu for a long spell o’ rain?” 

“’T won’t hold up agin this day,” said the farm- 
er, “as I’ve just been telling this young man; he 
might as well untackle the beasts, and settle down 
to stop over night with us.” 

“But I don’t like to trouble you,” said Cousin 
Will. “We must be near Green’s, and we’ll sure- 
ly be able to get so far before long.” 

“ Oh it’s no trouble,” said the woman, “ we cal- 
kilate to accommodate any one who gets weather 
bound. We have a good deal of company, first 
and last.” 

“Well, Nimpo,” said Cousin Will, “I suppose 
we might as well make ourselves comfortable 
then.” 

“ Oh let’s go on ! ” said Nimpo, in a low voice. 


234 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“ I don’t believe it’ll rain long, and I do want to 
get to Cleveland to-night.” 

“Get to Cleveland!” said Cousin Will. “Non- 
sense, don’t be silly. We can’t go on in the rain 
— that’s flat. I guess the farmer knows more 
about the weather than you.” 

With a sigh, which came near being a sob, 
Nimpo turned away, and slowly began to take 
off her bonnet. 

“Come into the other room,” said the woman 
kindly, “and take off your things.” 

She opened a door, and Nimpo followed her in. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A NIGHT IN THE FARM-HOUSE. 

The other room was smaller than the kitchen, 
and there were two beds in it. They were great, 
fat, cushiony looking beds, with full white val- 
ance hanging to the floor, covered with patch- 
work quilts of wonderful patterns, and having 
two slinky looking pillows on each. 

The posts of the bedsteads ran up nearly to the 
wall, and on them was a frame from which hung 
long white curtains, full enough to completely 
surround the beds, when drawn. 

As for other furniture, there was little. Be- 
tween the windows there was a square stand with 
two leaves to turn up, on which lay a newspaper 
and three books. A wooden rocking chair with a 
high feather cushion in it, another wooden chair or 
two, and a strip of rag carpeting in front of the 


236 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


beds completed the assortment. Oh ! I forgot two 
astonishing pictures,* one of which was “Daniel in 
the Lion’s Den,” dressed in red coat and blue pan- 
taloons, and the other “Abraham and Isaac” — in 
the same style of art. 

All this Nimpo took in in one look, while the 
woman patted up the pillows, and changed the 
place of a chair or two. 

“Now take your things right off, and make 
yourself to home,” said she kindly. “ I know it 
seems rather strange like at first, but I’ve got a 
daughter myself only a bit older than you, and 
I’ll take good care of you. Lay your things on 
this bed here, and when you like you can come 
out into the kitchen. Is that young man your 
brother? ” 

“No, he’s my cousin,” said Nimpo. 

“Oh! Well, come out when you get ready, I 
must get my dinner going,” and she went out. 

Nimpo threw off her bonnet and shawl, and 
took a good look at the droll things which that 
room held. After looking at the pictures awhile, 
she puzzled herself over the pattern of the patch- 


A NIGHT IN .THE FARM-HOUSE. 237 

work quilts, and then turned to the window, 
where a stiff green paper curtain was rolled half 
way up, and tied with a piece of tape. She looked 
out, — nothing but rain, rain, a dreary line of rail 
fence, the deserted road, — nothing else. 

Then she turned to the stand, to see what she 
could find to read. The newspaper was an old 
number of the “ New York Observer,” yellow and 
ragged with age ; of the books, one was the Bible, 
the second “Baxter’s Saint’s Rest.” 

Nimpo opened it, and turned over the leaves. 

“It looks dry,” she said, shutting it up, and 
taking up the third. That was “Pilgrim’s Prog- 
ress,” and though Nimpo had read that interest- 
ing story a dozen times she clung to it as a last 
hope of being entertained. Sitting down in the 
rocking chair, she opened the book and began to 
read. 

Now when Nimpo took a book, you might turn 
the house upside down, and unless you disturbed 
her she would not know it. She sat there and 
rocked, and read, till the kitchen door opened 
softly, a head was put in, quickly followed by 


238 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


a body — as the farmer’s wife saw what she was 
doing. 

“ Why, du tell ! you been reading all this time ? ' 
1 thought you was taking a nap. Here’s dinner 
smoking on the table, and your cousin asking 
for you.” 

Nimpo closed the book, and followed her out. 

“Wall, she wa’n’t asleep after all, — reading a 
book, for all the world like my ’Mandy. She’d 
sit from morning to night, and read, and read.” 

“ What did you find so interesting ? ” asked the 
farmer pleasantly, as Nimpo took the seat pointed 
out to her. 

“ Only ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’” said Nimpo. “I’ve 
read it before, but I like it.” 

“ So do I,” said the man, “ once in awhile of a 
Sunday, but I’m getting too old to read much.” 

Nimpo looked at him with pity, and wondered 
what pleasure life could have, when one was too 
old to read. But soon she was attracted to the 
extraordinary meal before her. 

In a big dish before the farmer, was a mon- 
strous piece of boiled beef, surrounded by pota- 


A NIGHT IN THE FARM-HOUSE. 


239 


toes, turnips, beets, onions, cabbage, and in fact 
nearly every kind of vegetable that grew in the 
garden. 

Nimpo turned away from that, only to see a 
large pan of cold baked pork and beans, at the 
other end of the table; the space between being 
filled up with smaller dishes of pickles, preserves, 
fried eggs, bread, apple sauce, and cheese, mixed 
in with pumpkin and apple pies, ^ake and gin- 
gerbread. 

Nimpo instinctively looked around to see the 
army who should eat all this food, and was sur- 
prised to see no one but Cousin Will and herself, 
besides the farmer and his wife. And they four 
actually sat down to that tableful. Of course 
they could not do much towards emptying it, 
though the hospitable hosts urged every thing 
on them again and again. 

After dinner, Nimpo returned to her book, and 
Cousin Will went out to the barn with the farm- 
er, to look at his stock — he said — and see about 
the weather. The farmer’s wife put on a big, 
checked apron, cleared the table, and washed 


240 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


the dishes, and then sat down to her stocking 
mending. 

The afternoon dragged slowly away. Nimpo 
finished the “ Pilgrim’s Progress,” and was driven 
to read the advertisements in the old newspaper, 
and after awhile, to talk with her hostess. Like 
most uneducated people, she never knew when 
to stop, so she went on and told Nimpo nearly 
her whole history. Nimpo found it quite inter- 
esting — almost like a story-book, and she won- 
dered how a woman who had seen so much, could 
live contentedly on a farm, miles away from every 
body. 

When it came tea time the dinner was repeated, 
except as to the meat and vegetables, the place 
of which was filled by plates of raised biscuits, 
which looked as if they got to rising, and didn’t 
know when to stop, for they were nearly as large 
as loaves of bread. 

Nimpo couldn’t eat half of one, especially as 
her plate was surrounded by a row of little plates 
and sauce dishes, — two deep, — each one holding 
something she wanted to eat. 


A NIGHT IN THE FARM-HOUSE. 


241 


Tea was over at last, the milk brought in, 
strained, and put away, the one tallow candle 
lighted, and at about half past seven they began 
to get ready for bed. 

The question of bedrooms had been troubling 
Nimpo for some time, for so far as she could 
see there were but two rooms in the house, 
and how they were to sleep, she could not 
imagine. 

But it was simple enough. When all was done 
for the night, the woman said to Nimpo, 

“Come, dear, you and I’ll go to bed, and give 
the men a chance.” And she took the candle, and 
led the way to the other room. 

“We haven’t got but one bedroom yet,” she 
went on, seeing Nimpo’s surprise, “but you see 
when we draw these curtains, we’re just the same 
as in another room. You and I’ll take this bed, 
and leave the other for the men.” ^ 

“But — ” began Nimpo, who had never slept 
with a stranger in her life. 

“Oh! I know,” interrupted the woman, laugh- 
ing, “ it seems funny to you, it did to me at first, 
16 


242 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


but la ! — it’s nothing when you get used to it. 
Which side’ll you have ? ” 

“ The back side,” said poor Nimpo, who thought 
she would rather die than sleep with that woman. 

However, there was nothing to do but submit. 
She dawdled around, unlacing her shoes, till the 
woman went to bed and drew the curtains, and 
then going around behind the bed, she just slipped 
off her dress, and laid down on the back side as 
far as she could get from her already half-asleep 
hostess. 

In a few minutes she heard the farmer and 
Cousin Will came in, and pretty soon their bed 
creaked, and the light went out, and Nimpo 
thought she should lie awake and stare at the 
dark till morning, for she knew she couldn’t sleep. 

But she did, and before she knew it, it was 
broad daylight, and her bedfellow was gone. 

After listening awhile, and hearing no sound, 
she cautiously peeped out, and saw the curtains 
of the other bed drawn back, and the clothes 
turned over the foot board. She knew then that 
she had the room to herself, and she hurried to 


A NIGHT IN THE EA EM-HOUSE, 


243 


slip on her dress before any one should come in. 
She finished dressing more leisurely, and went 
out. 

Breakfast was nearly ready, and Nimpo went at 
once to the door, to see about the weather. She 
couldn’t stay there another day. 

The rain had stopped, but it was cloudy yet. 
However, Cousin Will came in just then and told 
her they must hurry through breakfast, and try 
and get to Cleveland before it rained again. 

So before long the horses came up, and Nimpo 
bade the farmer’s wife good-by, and climbed into 
the buggy. 

‘‘Stop agin sometime,” she said hospitably. 

“Thank you,” said Nimpo, but when they 
reached the road, they had a great laugh about 
the queer little farm-house, its big dinners and 
its odd way. 


CHAPTER XXVL 


THE GREEN RIBBON MAKES TROUBLE. 

For some hours the rain held off, but at last it 
came. They were some miles from a house, and 
about as near Cleveland as anywhere, so Cousin 
Will resolved to push on. The rain was in their 
face, and, though not violent, was a steady pour, 
and the wind blew it in on to them, so that before 
they saw the spires of the city, they were soaked 
through. 

Poor Nimpo’s light bonnet gave out the first 
thing, and weakly flatted down on to her head, 
and the treacherous ribbon wept green tears all 
over the wreck, doAvn on to Nimpo’s face, drop- 
ping at last on the light shawl she wore. 

“Goodness! Nimpo 1 ” said Cousin Will, hap- 
pening to look at her just as they were going 


THE GREEN RIBBON MANES TROUBLE. 245 

into Cleveland, “you look like a green ghost,” and 
he began to laugh, and laughed, and laughed, as 
though he could never stop. 

Nimpo saw nothing to laugh at. 

“Well, I think it’s real mean to laugh at me,” 
said she, mingling her tears with the green stream. 
“ How I’ll look to go to Carrie Stuart’s ! Oh I 
can’t go ! ” 

“You’ll have to,” said Cousin Will, laughing 
again. 

But now Nimpo was crying so hard that he 
stopped his rather hard-hearted laugh, and tried 
to console her. 

“You can wipe it otF Nimpo, and of course 
they’ll see how it is, and Mrs. Stuart’ll fix you 
up somehow.” 

But being fixed up by the fashionable and ele- 
gant Mrs. Stuart, of whom Nimpo was in great 
awe, was a terrible thought to her, and she wasn’t 
much consoled. 

However she tried to stop crying, and wiped 
her face with her handkerchief, which came off 
green; but it was a very unhappy and tearful 


246 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


girl that Cousin Will handed out at Mrs. Stuart’s 
door. The servant who answered the bell seemed 
inclined to refuse the trust, till Will said — 

“Tell Mrs. Stuart it’s Miss Nimpo Rievor, and 
I’ll come for her in the morning.” 

“ Oh call Carrie, please,” begged Nimpo, as the 
man was about starting off, leaving her in the 
hall. 

“Miss Carrie’s out of town,” was the reply. 

That gave the last blow to Nimpo’s self-control, 
she sank into a chair, overcome with mortification 
and disappointment. She buried her face in her 
arms, and Avished she could die. 

But she didn’t die. Of course not! Mrs. Stu- 
art came out, dressed in a beautiful light silk 
dress, with flowers in her hair. 

At first she did not know Nimpo, and she asked 
kindly, 

“Did you want to see me, little girl?” 

Nimpo looked up. 

“Don’t you knoAv me?” she said, between her 
sobs. “I’m Nimpo Rievor, and I came to stay 
with Carrie all night.” 


THE GREEN RIBBON MANES TROUBLE. 247 


“ Dear me ! So you are Nimpo ! I’m very glad 
to see you, but Carrie’ll be so sorry. She’s out 
of town for a week, — gone to her grandfather’s. 
You’ve been out in the rain,” she went on, for 
Nimpo had buried her face again, “ but don’t feel 
so bad about it — if that is all. Is any thing else 
the matter ? ” 

“No,” sobbed Nimpo, “only I look so, and I 
wanted to see Carrie.” 

“Well, never mind your looks, we’ll soon have 
you fixed up. I’m going out to dinner myself, but 
I’ll give you to Susan — you remember Susan — and 
she’ll soon make you comfortable with some of 
Carrie’s clothes, while yours get dry, and then you 
can amuse yourself in the library — I remember 
what a little book-worm you are — till you want to 
go to bed. William — ” she turned to the amazed 
servant, “send Susan here.” 

Susan came, and Nimpo was handed over to her 
with proper directions, and in a short time she had 
taken a warm bath, had her tea and was dressed 
in some clean clothes of Carrie’s, while Susan took 
hers, down to the kitchen to be dried. 


248 


NIMFO’S TROUBLES. 


Great as was her disappointment to find Carrie 
gone, this was a wonderful evening for her, and 
one she never forgot. She stole down into the 
library where it was light and pleasant, and there 
were four walls nearly covered with books, from 
which to choose. 

The very neighborhood of books was delightful 
to this hungry book-lover, and she never knew a 
perfume so delicious as the smell of a fresh new 
volume. 

The first hour she spent in reading names on 
the outside, and taking a peep now and then into 
one whose title invited search. But when she 
came to the shelves where Carrie had her books, 
she soon found a marvellous volume of travels, 
and after glancing over it, she went to a com- 
fortable easy chair, where she curled herself up, 
and opened the book. 

She had sailed half round the world, seen a 
thousand wonders, and had wonderful adventures, 
before she heard the door open, and saw Mrs. 
Stuart. 

“ Well, well! Beading here this time of night! 


THE GREEN RIBBON MANES TROUBLE. 249 

I wonder if you’d ever get tired,” she said pleas- 
antly. 

Nimpo looked up. 

“ I guess not. Is it late ? ” 

“Why, it’s twelve o’clock,” said Mrs. Stuart, 
“you ought to have been abed hours ago.” 

“0 I couldn’t go to bed, I wanted to read this 
book, and I’ve got to go^ home in the morning.” 

“I think not,” said Mrs. Stuart. “I’ve made 
a plan to keep you awhile, and send for Carrie.” 

But when Nimpo told her that her mother was 
away, and how she came, Mrs. Stuart saw that she 
must go, so she packed her off to bed. 

When Cousin Will drove up in the morning, 
Nimpo came out neatly fixed up with a bonnet 
of Carrie’s and her own dried shawl and dress. 
Mrs. Stuart came to the door with her, and told 
Will that it was her special request that Nimpo 
should come and stay a week when her mother 
came home, and Cousin Will said he would re- 
member and give the invitation to Mrs. Kievor, 
and Nimpo kissed Mrs. Stuart, and thanked her 
for the precious book of travels which she had 


250 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


given her to finish at home, — and they drove 
off. 

“Well, Nimpo,” said Cousin Will, “you didn’t 
have such a dreadful time after all.” 

“ Oh I had a splendid time ! ” said Nimpo, “ only 
Carrie wasn’t home.” 

The day turned out very pleasant, and they 
took dinner at Green’s, where they had another 
such a funny meal as at the farmer’s ; for after all. 
Green’s was only a farm-house with a sign stuck 
out. 

Though the sun shone, the mud was dreadful, — 
regular Ohio mud, yellow and clayey, — and the 
horses walked up and down the long hills, and 
so it was nearly dark when they drove into the 
village. 

Nimpo found Eush and Eobbie watching for 
her. Mrs. Primkins smiled grimly when she saw 
the new bonnet. 

“Found I was right about the green ribbon, 
didn’t you now?” she said. 

“The color did come out some,” answered Nim- 
po, shortly. . . 


THE GREEN RIBBON MANES TROUBLE. 251 


“Wall, what become of the bonnet anyway?” 
was the next question. 

“I don’t know, burnt up I guess; Susan took 
it,” answered Nimpo. 

“Wall, wall! you’re a careless huzzy. I haven’t 
a doubt that a little stiffnin’ ’d make that bonnet ’s 
good ’s new, but that’s the way with young ones. 
So’s they have a good time, no matter how much 
trouble and expense they make.” 

This greeting after the pleasant evening at Mrs. 
Stuart’s, and her lovely day’s ride, grated on Nim- 
po’s nerves severely, and she found it hard work 
not to talk back. But Bobbie’s welcome, and evi- 
dent delight at having her back, made up for 
every thing else. 

When she was undressing him, Nimpo gave him 
a good hugging. 

“Who undressed you when I was gone?” she 
asked. 

“Kush,” said Bobbie; “but he can’t unscrangle 
shoe strings — he breaks ’em.” 

“Well,” said Nimpo, “he sha’n’t undress you 
any more, you’re my boy again now.” 


252 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“ I ain’t yonr boy,” said Kobbie earnestly. I’m 
mamma’s boy, I growed just for her.” 

“ Well, you’ll be mine till she comes home, 
won’t you?” asked Nimpo. 

“Yes,” said Kobbie, “I’ll jest p’etend be your 
boy.” 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


THE WINDMILL STORE. 

“Nimpo,” exclaimed Rush one day, coming in 
from school, “it’s windmill time! Johnny Stevens 
had one this morning, — let’s have our store again.” 

“Well,” said Nimpo, “if Anna Morris’ll be in 
partnership with us, I will.” 

“Oh she will, I know!” said Rush eagerly. “I’ll 
go over now and ask her.” 

“No, I’ll see her at school this afternoon, and 
that’ll be time. We can’t do any thing till after 
school anyway.” 

Rush was so excited he could hardly eat his din- 
ner, and as soon as that meal was over he rushed 
off to begin his arrangements. 

Now in that little village, there came regularly, 
not only kite time, and top time, and marble time, 


254 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


and jumping rope time, but also windmill time, 
when every child carried a whirling windmill — 
pin wheel perhaps you call them. Not every one 
could make them well, and not any one had so 
fine a stock of colored papers as Nimpo. So that 
all she made were very' choice, and eagerly sought 
after. 

The year before my story, she and Kush had 
much fun, and made quite a little pile of pennies 
by selling them. 

At recess she talked it over with Anna, and at 
night they were ready to begin. 

“ I’ll get the boards, and rig up the store,” said 
Kush, as they hurried home from school. 

“ Oh no ! ” said Nimpo, “ we won’t let any body 
know till we get lots of things made, because 
you know there’ll be a rush at first, and we want 
it to look real pretty too.” 

“ Oh, of course ! ” said Anna. “ I can make nice 
fly-boxes, too.” 

“Yes, and fish noses,” said Kush. 

“And little crosses,” added Nimpo. “’But in 
school this afternoon, I wrote a paper for us 


THE WINDMILL STORE. 


255 


all to sign, — so we won’t have any trouble you 
know.” 

“Let’s see it,” said Anna. 

“Well, come in, on to the front steps,” said 
N’impo, for they had just reached the door, “ and 
I’ll read it.” 

They all sat down on the steps, and Nimpo 
took from her book a half sheet of foolscap paper, 
folded long — like a deed, or other legal document. 

On the outside was written. 

Articles of agreement drawn up by Nimpo Rievor, and 
agreed to by Anna Morris, and Rush Rievor. 

“But perhaps we won’t agree,” said Kush. 

“Wait till I read them,” said Nimpo begin- 
ning — 

Name of firm to be Rievor and Morris — 
because there’s two of us. 

Rules of the Firm. 

1st. That each member of the firm must do its half or 3d 
according to the number of parties in said firm. 


256 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


2d. That each must do their allotted work faithfully. 

3d. That Eush M. Eievor is to make all sticks cut off all 
heads of pins, and put them in said sticks. 

4th. That Nimpo Eievor is to cut all things out, and put 
them on said sticks. 

5th. That Anna B. Morris is to help her. 

6th. That each member of the firm is to receive theyr just 
share of the profits. 

7th. That each member of the firm is to spend a certain 
time agreed upon in making or selling, and as much time as 
they can spare otherwise. 

8th. That if there is any disagreement that can not be 
settled, that the firm must dissolve immediately, each receiv- 
ing an equal share of the store property. 

9th. That each week the profits shall be divided. 

Signed, Nimpo Eievoe. 

“That’s fair,” said Anna; “I’ll sign it,” and she 
took a pencil from her pocket, and wrote her 
name under Nimpo’s. 

“It don’t tell who shall furnish paper,” said 
Kush, as he wrote his name, under Anna’s. 

“Why, I’ll have to furnish colored paper of 
course,” said Nimpo, “ and Anna can furnish white 
paper for fly-boxes and such things, and you, 
Kush, must furnish sticks.” 


THE WINDMILL STORE, 


257 


“Who’ll get the pins?” asked Kush. 

“ Oh, all of us,” said Nirnpo. 

“Let’s hunt now,” said Rush, starting up and 
running around to the back door, where he could 
get in. Nimpo and Anna followed, and then com- 
menced an energetic hunt. The way that bureaus 
and sofas were pulled out from the wall, bedsteads 
and washstands shoved out of the way (and left 
so), would have driven a housekeeper crazy. Up- 
stairs, down -stairs, in the cracks, at the edge 
of the carpets, under the edge of oil-cloth and 
zinc, every corner and crevice of that house was 
searched. The result was a goodly pile of pins, 
some bent and discouraged by their experience 
of life, some worn smooth and brassy by long and 
faithful service, and some bright and straight as 
when they came from the paper. 

Perhaps you wonder why they did not go to 
their mother’s big brick pin-cushion, and help 
themselves; but that’s another thing I must tell 
you about the windmill business. At first they 
did so, and when they had a box full of pins and 
needles, — for this trade was carried on by pins and 
17 


258 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


not by pennies, — they took them to mother to buy. 
They found out how many pins go to a paper, 
and they charged her full price for them, just as 
though they were all fresh and new. 

Well, when the pins got so numerous that Mrs. 
Kievor found she too was in the business, she 
began to impose conditions. First, that every pin 
must be straight, and every -needle have a point 
and an eye; and secondly, that they must find 
the pins for their outfit, themselves. 

When they had collected enough pins to begin 
with. Rush started for the barn to find a piece 
of soft wood, Anna went home for white paper, 
and to search their house for pins, and Nimpo 
went to her bureau drawers to rummage for paper. 

You girls whose fathers keep dry-goods stores, 
won’t need to be told where she got her bright 
papers, and droll little ribbons; but for the bene- 
fit of others I will tell, that when her father had 
new goods come, he opened them at night, after 
the store was closed, and Nimpo and her mother 
always went down to see the things, — Mrs. Rievor 
to select what she wanted, and Nimpo to secure 


THE WINDMILL STORE. 


259 


the ribbons and papers that come wrapped around 
the rolls of linen, and the pretty gilt pictures and 
figures that are pasted on the Swiss muslins. 

No other girl had a claim at the store, so Nimpo 
had them all, and very choice she was of them 
too. 

Their common use was to furnish clothing for 
her paper dolls. She never dreamed of a bought 
paper doll, with pretty face and nice clothes — such 
as you can buy for a few cents. Far from it! 
Her dolls she cut herself from pasteboard, their 
faces she made with a pencil, and their clothes she 
cut from the colored papers. She had a big box- 
ful too, and enjoyed them much more than I ever 
saw any of you youngsters enjoy your lovely 
bought ones. 

Well, to go back to the windmills. On extra 
occasions like the present, Nimpo would bring out 
her stock of treasures, and use some of them for 
windmills. 

Anna and Kush returned, and business began in 
earnest. Kush soon had a pile of small round 
sticks ready, and Nimpo had selected the papers 


260 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


she was willing to use, while Anna — who could 
print very well — was preparing signs. 

The largest sign she made of a whole sheet 
of foolscap paper, spread open, and tacked on a 
board. It read thus — 

KIEVOK & MOKRIS. 

WINDMILL & DART & FIZIMAJIG STORE. 

This large sign was intended to be stuck up on 
the gate, to attract passers by. For smaller signs 
to put up over the counter, she made two. 

Every thing to he sold strictly for 
Pins and Needles. 

Every Needle must have a 'point and an eye., and 
not he very rusty. Pins must he straight 
and have their heads on. 

When Rush had enough sticks ready, he went 
to work on the pins. First he hunted up an old 
pair of shears, and cut off all the heads. Then 
sharpening the ends of about half the sticks as 


THE WINDMILL STOLE. 261 

you sharpen a lead pencil, he drove a pin into 
each sharp stick till it was firm, with the point 
out. But I don’t suppose I need tell you how to 
make darts, no doubt you have made dozens of 
them yourself. 

For the windmills he simply made the sticks 
smooth, about as long and as large as a lead 
pencil. 

Meanwhile Nimpo had cut out a lot of square 
papers, of different sizes and colors, and variously 
ornamented with edges cut in scallops or points, 
or with gay little stars or dots pasted on, or an 
overlying openwork pattern of a different color. 

When Anna had finished the signs, she went 
to work putting the papers on the sticks. As fast 
as the darts were done, they were thrown across 
the room and stuck into a door, to see how they 
would go. 

The next day was Saturday, and by nine o’clock 
in the morning, the store was open. Kush made 
a counter by putting a board across two barrels, 
under the front piazza. The darts made a gay 
show against the house, behind the counter, the 


262 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


windmills stuck through a sort of rack, so as not 
to injure the paper, and the other little things 
arranged on the counter. The signs were put 
up, and all was ready. 

First came in one boy, to see what was going 
on, then he ran home for pins, and told the news 
to every one he met, they too went home for pins, 
and in fifteen minutes the rush began. 

Now Nimpo and Kush and Anna were all as 
busy as they could be, waiting on the eager 
buyers, testing the qualities of the windmills and 
darts, showing how the fiy-boxes opened, and how 
the fish noses could be made to work. 

Then came grave consultations over the pins 
and needles offered. Many were bent too much, 
— mother would forgive a tiny bend, — many of 
the needles had outlived their usefulness, and the 
whole firm had a private consultation behind 
the front steps, on the value of a darning needle, 
brought by Mamy Smith. 

Pins were the standard. Articles were marked, 
3, 5, 10, 12, and so on, meaning so many pins. 
Each needle was worth eight pins, and — as they 


THE WINDMILL STORE. 


263 


agreed — each darning needle was worth twenty 
pins. When sold to mother, twenty -five pins 
were worth a cent, so you see it was easy to 
count up gains. 

All the morning while they were so busy, every 
thing went ofi* pleasantly — as it generally does 
with busy people — and the eighth proviso of the 
terms of agreement was null and void. (We may 
as well get used to legal terms, you know.) • 

By noon nearly all the stock was sold, and the 
store had to be shut up to replenish. That’s the 
disadvantage of having but one set of hands to 
manufacture, and to sell. Moreover nearly all the 
village children were supplied, and it was just as 
well to have a rest, till they had lost or broken 
the things, and wanted more. 

The rest of the stock, very small, was taken 
into the house, and they all went to dinner. 
After that meal, they came back, but found they 
were rather tired, so they decided not to open 
again that day. They counted their pins, and 
found two hundred and twenty, nearly nine cents 
worth, and there were needles enough to be worth 


264 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


three cents more. They felt that they had done 
business enough for one day, and could afford to 
retire. 

“Shall we divide the pins now?” asked Nimpo. 

“ Let’s wait till your mother pays for them, and 
divide the money,” said Anna. 

“ Ho ! she won’t buy your pins ! ” said Rush 
bluntly. 

“Won’t your mother buy them?” asked Nimpo. 

“ No,” said Anna, “ she said she didn’t want all 
the neighbor’s old pins.” 

“No more does my mother,” said Nimpo, a lit- 
tle nettled. “She buys them to please us. She 
has a whole package of papers of pins on her 
closet shelf ^ 

“ A whole package ! ” said Anna a little incredu- 
lously, for her mother never bought more than 
one pa;per at a time. 

“Don’t you believe it?” asked Rush fiercely. 

“ Oh I suppose it’s so, of course, if you say so,” 
said Anna rather sneeringly. 

“ I can show it to you in a minute,” said Nimpo, 
now very much provoked. 


THE WINDMILL STORE. 


265 


She hastily went into the closet, stepped up on 
a chair and reached down the package. It had 
but one paper taken out and Anna was quite im- 
pressed when Nimpo set it down before her on 
the table. 

“There, Miss Anna Morris!” said Eush, “do 
you think our mother wants to buy the neighbor’s 
old pins ? She just does it to please us.” 

“ Oh I didn’t mean any thing,” said Anna has- 
tily, for she saw the rising storm in Nimpo’s face, 
and she never had much fun when she and Nimpo 
were “ mad.” “ Of course I know your mother has 
enough pins. I was only joking.” 

“Well,” said Nimpo somewhat mollified, “you 
can leave your pins if you want to. I presume 
mother’ll be willing to buy them all. But I don’t 
want to have a store any longer.” 

“Nor I,” said Eush. “I’m tired of it.” 

“Well then, let’s dissolve,” and dissolve they 
did ' at once, dividing the few remaining wind- 
mills and darts, but leaving the pins in one box 
together, to wait Mrs. Eievor’s return. 

The signs were taken down, but the counter 


266 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


was forgotten, and there it stood till Sarah came 
to clear np, when she whisked it into the wood- 
shed in short order. 

Thus ended the windmill and dart business for 


the season. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


BUILDING A LOG HOUSE. 

“Nimp,” said Rush the next Monday, “don’t let’s 
go to school to-day, let’s go down home and play 
log house.” 

“ Oh I don’t want to,” said Nimpo, who thought 
she was too old to play log house. 

“ Oh yes ! ” urged Rush, “pretty soon the wood’ll 
be all split up, and then we can’t. You want to 
go, don’t you, Robbie?” 

“ Oh yes ! ” shouted Robbie, jumping around in 
delight at the prospect. 

“Come, Nimp,” said Rush, “we’ll have real fun. 
I’ll go to the store for some candy, and we can 
get raisins and things out of the store-room.” 

Nimpo hesitated. She hadn’t played log house 
since she was twelve years old — nearly a year — 
because she thought it too childish. 


268 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“Come, Nimp, do,” Eiish teased, “you may have 
my little chair, and be the mother.” 

This offer was too tempting, and Nimpo yielded, 
slowly. 

“Well — I don’t care — I’ll go,” she said at last. 

“Let’s take the kitties,” said Eush. 

“ Of course,” answered Nimpo. 

The kittens were caught, and in a few minutes 
the children were all off. 

“ I wonder what’s in the wind now ! ” thought 
Mrs. Primkins, as she saw them go down the 
street. “Some new mischief. I’ll be bound. If 
them young ones ain’t the beater for scrapes I 
ever see! They’re chock full of mischief as an 
egg is of meat, every bit and grain. I’m mighty 
glad their ma’s coming home next week,” and 
she turned back to her w^ash tub. 

Now that Nimpo had really given up and de- 
cided to play, she entered into it with great spirit, 
for this game — with the help of her vivid imagi- 
nation — had a delicious spice of picnicking and 
camping out, and all the delightful wild adven- 
tures she had read of. 


BUILDING A LOG HOUSE, 


269 


By the time she had the house unlocked, and 
the things she thought they would want selected 
from the store-room, Kush hurried in from the 
store, shouting, “I’ve got three whole sticks! I 
told Cousin Will we were going to build a house, 
and some maple sugar 1 ” 

“ Oh goody I ” cried Robbie. 

The treasures were safely deposited, and then 
they .went out to begin the house. Across the 
back end of the yard, was a long wood-pile, piled 
up in the spring to get dry and nice for the 
next winter’s burning. At one end of the pile 
Old Lisles had commenced sawing, for it was 
customary to have it all sawed and split, and 
piled in the wood-shed before fall. 

He had a big pile sawed, but not any split 
yet, and it was of these short chunks that Kush 
and Nimpo prepared to build the house. 

“Where shall we build it?” asked Rush, who 
was unusually amiable, for this was the first time 
in a year that he had succeeded in coaxing Nimpo 
to play. 

“ Over here under the apple-tree will be nice 


270 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


and shady,” said Nimpo, “and we can play it is 
in the woods.” 

“That’ll be too far to carry the sticks,” said 
Kush, “besides if we make it in this corner by 
the wood -pile, we’ll only have two sides to 
build. The pile will make one side, and the 
fence another.” 

“ So it will,” said Nimpo, seeing these important 
advantages. “Well, we’ll have it there,” and they 
began at once to bring the logs. 

It took about twenty minutes to build the man- 
sion, for it wasn’t very large. In fact, when done, 
it was about four feet square inside, and it was 
a tight squeeze to get a small table and three 
children in. 

The sticks were piled up on two sides, just as 
in a regular wood-pile, a place was left for a door, 
and Nimpo went into the house to get something 
for a roof 

When their mother was home, she had an old 
shawl that she let them take for a roof, btit Nimpo 
couldn’t find that one, so she hunted around and 
found another shawl. 


BUILDING A LOG HOUSE. 


271 


“ She wears this,” said Nimpo to herself. “ But 
we won’t hurt it any, and she won’t care I guess.” 

So she took it. 

The shawl was spread over the rough walls, 
fastened by a stick of wood at each corner, and 
the house was done. 

“Now I’ll make the fire-place,” said Kush, 
“while you get the kettles and things.” 

While Nimpo went to the house for a frying-pan 
and a tin sauce-pan to make tea. Rush dug a hole 
in the ground outside the house, put four bricks 
for the sides, and over one end stood an old piece 
of stove-pipe. Into this droll fire-place he piled 
chips and bits of paper, sent Robbie into the house 
for a match, and at last had his fire lighted. The 
pipe made a draught, and it roared away in the 
most satisfactory manner. 

Now Nimpo appeared with the things; first she 
handed out of her apron three or four potatoes, 
which Rush at once buried in a hole he had made 
on purpose, under the fire. Then the frying-pan 
was set on top of the bricks, and a piece of butter 
put in it. 


272 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“Where are the eggs?” asked Kush. 

“ In the kitchen,” said Nimpo. “ You get them 
while I set the table, — and some salt ! ” she called 
out as he ran off. 

Nimpo had a small stand, which had been made 
for her when she was a very little girl. It was 
about as high as the seat of a chair, and was 
stained in exaggerated imitation of mahogany. 
It Avas the delight of her heart, and always stood 
by her bed. On occasions of building log houses, 
she had heretofore been too choice of her stand 
to bring it out, but to give extra glory to this 
time, she resolved to have it. So she went up- 
stairs and brought it down. At the door she met 
Rush with a dish of eggs. 

“ Why, Nimpo ! ” he exclaimed in surprise, “ are 
you going to take out your little table?” 

“Yes,” said Nimpo. “We’ll have it splendid 
this time, and I’ve found a table-cloth too.” 

“Jolly, ain’t that grand!” he said. 

When they got to the stove they found the 
butter all burnt up and a strong smell of burning 
grease. 


BUILDING A LOG HOUSE. 


273 


“Oh, dear, this’ll have to be washed out!” said 
Rush, taking olf the frying-pan. 

“Well, you wash it, I haven’t time,” said Nim- 
po, busily spreading the table. 

Perhaps you have noticed that when you have 
coaxed and teased one to join your play, that one 
feels a perfect right to dictate and order about. 
Well, just so Nimpo did, but Rush was glad to 
get her to play on any terms, — for it wasn’t a bit 
of fun alone, — so he meekly obeyed her orders, 
washed out the frying-pan as well as he could, 
not too well either, put in a fresh piece of butter, 
and went on to fry the eggs. 

There was, it must be admitted, a sort of same- 
ness to the meals in the log house, because of the 
limited capacity of the stove. They always con- 
sisted of fried eggs, baked potatoes, tea, and any 
thing extra that they could get. The potatoes 
were baking, and the eggs sizzling in the pan, 
before any one thought of the tea. 

“ Oh Nimpo I ” Rush called, “ I forgot the tea. 
Won’t you fix it? I can’t leave the eggs, they’ll 
all burn up.” 

18 


274 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES, 


Nimpo left the table, filled the sauce-pan with 
water — cold of course — put in a small handful 
of tea, and stood it on the stove behind the 
eggs. 

For table-cloth she had brought out one of her 
mother’s nice large damask towels, and she now 
had the table ready. She had left her set of china 
at Mrs. Primkins’, but with sauce plates for plates, 
and egg glasses for goblets, she managed to make 
a pretty table. Just as she got the tea on the 
stove, Kush said the eggs were done. To be sure 
the potatoes were hard as bricks yet, and the tea 
not beginning to be warm, but that was no mat- 
ter — the eggs could wait. As a matter of fact 
they always had to wait, for cooking them was 
the most fascinating part of the dinner -getting, 
and of course was sure to be done first. 

After a good deal of trouble, and many new 
fires, Rush thought the dinner would do to take 
up. The tea was not yet boiled, but Nimpo said 
it would do — she didn’t care much for tea any- 
way. The potatoes were dragged out from under 
the fire, very black, and covered with ashes, but 


BUILDING A LOG HOUSE. 


276 


soft — if they were squeezed — and Eush said they 
would mash soft anyway. 

So every thing was taken up, and put on the 
crowded little table, and Eobbie was called from 
the garden, where he was digging a deep hole, 
“to fill full of water and sail his boat,” he said. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


TAKING DINNER IN THE LOG HOUSE. 

Robbie, being the smallest, was squeezed in to 
the back of the table. Nimpo took the seat of 
honor at the tea board, where stood Rush’s little 
chair, while Rush sat on a square chunk of wood 
at the other end. He served eggs and potatoes, 
while Nimpo presided over tea, candy, raisins, and 
cinnamon, sticks of which stood up in mother’s 
spoon glass, like celery. 

This was very rude housekeeping, but I can tell 
you there was nothing rude about the manners. 
Every thing had to be done in the most elegant 
way. They called each other Mrs. Poulton, and 
Mr. Cady, and Robbie, Master Adolphus, — names 
which they always assumed on ceremonious occa- 
sions like the present. The curious viands were 
served in great style, and they spent a delightful 


TAKING DINNER IN THE LOG HOUSE. 277 


hour disposing of them, and conversing in grown- 
up style about their friends and their families, 
each one having invented numerous relatives for 
the occasion. 

After dinner they went to play on the hay, as a 
rest from the labors of building a house and cook- 
ing dinner and sustaining grown-up characters so 
long. 

Nimpo got another book, — an odd volume of 
“ The Lady of the Manor,” — and was lying by the 
window on the sweet hay, deep in the woes of 
some unfortunate Clementina or Isabella, when 
Kobbie called out from the door that it was 
raining. 

She remembered her mother’s shawl on the 
roof of their house, and she sprang up. Sure 
enough, it was sprinkling fast. She ran out, 
and snatched the shawl off, but alas 1 it caught 
on a sharp stick and tore — a dreadful three-cor- 
nered hole. 

“ There ! ” cried Kush, who was trying to make 
the fire burn again. “ Now you’ve done it ! 
What’ll mother say ? ” 


"278 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“Oh dear! I don’t know,” said Nimpo sorrow- 
fully. “ How unlucky I am 1 it’s too bad I ” and 
she went slowly into the. house. 

Then it began to rain so hard that Robbie and 
Rush came running in, and Nimpo never thought 
of the dishes, her book, her stand, and her moth- 
er’s damask towel. 

When the rain was over, it was nearly night 
and they locked up the house and went back to 
Mrs. Primkins’. 

“ Oh Rush,” exclaimed Nimpo, stopping on the 
stairs, as they were on their way up to bed, “ we 
left all those things out! the dishes and frying- 
pan — ” 

“They won’t hurt,” said Rush carelessly. 

“ Oh ! but mother’s towel — ” Nimpo went on. 

“ Rain won’t hurt that, and I don’t believe any 
body’ll steal it,” said Rush. 

“ Oh dear ! ” Nimpo burst out excitedly, “ and 
my table ! Oh I’ve a good mind to go down now 
and take it in.” 

“I wouldn’t,” said Rush, going on up-stairs, 
“’twon’t hurt any.” 


TAKING DINNER IN THE LOG HOUSE. 279 


“But suppose some one should cany it off!” 
wailed Nimpo. “Won’t you go with me, Rush?” 

“Oh no, I don’t want to,” said Rush; “besides 
I’ve got my shoes off, and Mrs. Primkins has 
locked up the house.” 

That was true, and slowly and sadly Nimpo 
went on to bed. 

The first thing in the morning she ran down to 
the house, to see if her precious table was safe. 
Dire was the confusion in the deserted, roofiess 
log house. It looked as though a tornado had 
swept through it. The dishes were all on the 
ground, and an egg glass was broken. The var- 
nish on the poor little table had turned white in 
spots. The unfortunate “ Lady of the Manor ” 
lying wide open on Rush’s chair, was soaked 
through, and the cover swelled up and half off. 
The towel was altogether missing. 

Poor Nimpo stood aghast. 

“ I had no business to take the towel,” she said, 
“ mother never lets me, and how stupid of me to 
leave the book 1 It serves me right that my dear 
little table is spoilt ! Oh dear, how much trouble 


280 


NIMPO^S TROl/BLES. 


I have had since mother went away ! I do won- 
der if I’m always so careless,” and she sat down 
on the steps to think. 

“ I wonder if I do give mother so much trouble 
as Mrs. Primkins says I do, and I wonder if it’s be- 
cause she’s gone that I get into so many scrapes ! 
— seems to me I never had so many accidents in 
my life.” 

After some moments of serious thought, Nimpo 
arose and prepared to remove the wreck of their 
play. The dishes she gathered up and carried 
into the house, and the frying-pan — all rusted — 
and the unfortunate little table. And at last, 
half way to the house she found what was left 
of the towel. It was a mere ruin, torn and 
bitten. 

“ Oh dear,” she cried, as she held it up and saw 
its condition, “ Mrs. Wilson’s puppy must have got 
it, and he pulled it off and broke the dishes.” 

Mrs. Wilson, who lived in the next house, had 
a half-grown Newfoundland dog, which was very 
fond of playing with clothes, shoes, or any thing 
of the kind. He would even jump up and seize 


TAKING DINNER IN THE LOG HOUSE. 281 


the clothes on the line, and had been trouble- 
some all summer. 

Very sadly Nimpo cleared up the things, and 
went oiF to school. 

“Nimpo,” said Anna that afternoon at recess, 
“you’re going to Miss More’s after school, ain’t 
you?” 

“ I suppose so,” said Nimpo, rather crossly, “ but 
I don’t want to go a bit.” 

Miss More was their Sunday-school teacher, and 
the Sunday before had invited her class to a 
prayer-meeting in her room. 

“ Oh Nimpo ! ” said Anna, with her mouth drawn 
down at the corners in a prim way, “it’s very 
wicked to talk so; Miss More said so.” 

“Well, I suppose it is,” said Nimpo, who did not 
feel very happy yet. “ I know I’m awful wicked, 
but I can’t bear to go to that old prayer-meeting — 
so there! I suppose I’ll have to go though, or 
she’ll talk to me awfully.” 

After school therefore, the girls went up to Miss 
More’s room, which was in the third story of the 
“Ladies’ Hall.” 


282 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES, 


There were half a dozen girls there, and after 
some reading from the Bible, Miss More knelt 
down to pray. 

Nirnpo had a chair by the window, and — feel- 
ing very much out of harmony with every thing 
— was. I’m sorry to say, looking out of the 
window. 

Before long a man came into the street, and 
looking up to her, began the most singular ges- 
tures. He threw his arms about, he pointed to 
the top of the house, he seemed to be wildly 
shouting to her to do something. 

Nimpo thought he was crazy, but soon she 
heard a word that fairly froze the blood in her 
veins. The word was “ Fire ! ” — “ The house is on 
fire ! ” 

Then his conduct was explained, and Nimpo’s 
only thought was that it was a judgment on her 
because of her wickedness. She did not know 
what to do either. She couldn’t bear to get up 
and speak. But others heard, they got up, Nim- 
po rushed to the door, and forgetting every thing 
in her fright, she flew down-stairs — she never 


TAKING DINNER IN THE LOG HOUSE. 283 


knew how — and never paused till she stood on 
the street. 

Then she saw that the flames were bursting 
out of the roof, and a wild scene of confusion 
began, as there often will in a small town where 
there are no fire-engines. 

The whole world seemed to have gone sud- 
denly crazy. Windows were burst out, and men 
pitched out furniture, bureaus, looking-glasses, 
chairs, and trunks, that of course were smashed 
by the fall, and the same men would bring down, 
with the greatest care, mattresses, bundles of 
clothes, and such things, that might have been 
thrown out without injury. 

One man — kind soul — went to the milk-room, 
and brought out one after another, ten pans of 
milk, and set them carefully on the grass, where 
in five minutes, they were full of soot and 
dust, drunk by dogs, and stumbled over and 
spilled. 

The young ladies who roomed there were as 
wild as the rest, and in fact such a panic reigned 
that Nimpo ran home, though it was a quarter of 


284 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES, 


a mile off, and began to pack her treasures into 
her trunk, ready to be moved. 

While she was doing that the fire was put out; 
but not for years, till Nimpo grew older and wiser, 
could she get over the idea that her dreadful wick- 
edness in not wanting to go to the prayer-meeting, 
was the sole cause of the fire. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


NIMPO’S BRIGHT IDEA. 

That night, after the fire was out, and the 
furniture — what was left of it — had been carried 
back, and people had come to their senses, and 
gone home to their tea, Nimpo received a letter 
from her father. 

Rush eagerly leaned over her shoulder as she 
read it aloud: 

My Deae Little Daughtee: I suppose you think it is about 
time we came home. So do we, and we hope to start in a 
day or two — 

“ Oh, goody ! ” shouted Rush. Nimpo fairly 
danced for joy, waving the letter like a banner 
in her hand. Then she hugged Robbie, and told 
him mother was coming, and settled down to fin- 
ish the letter: 


286 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


I had occasion yesterday to go down Maiden Lane, and I 
thoTRght how pleased you would be to be with me. Maiden 
Lane is a narrow street running out of Broadway. Here are 
located various stores filled with wonderful things. Whips and 
tops and balls, that would delight Kush and Bobbie beyond 
measure. Walking-canes that can be changed into chairs in 
two minutes, and large wax dolls with eyes which can be 
opened or closed at pleasure,— 

“ Oh dear ! ” sighed Nimpo. “ I wish — ” Then 
she Avent on: 

which, of course, a young lady almost in her “teens” would 
not want. 

Nimpo drew a long sigh. 

I saw rocking-horses large enough for a boy of ten to ride on, — 

“ Oh, I hope he’ll bring me one ! ” said Rush, 
fervently. 

and boats with sails that can be spread by pulling a string. 

“ Oh, I’d rather have the boat ! ” interrupted 
Rush again. 

“ Do let me finish the letter,” said Nimpo, 
reading: 


NIMPO'S BRIGHT IDEA. 


287 


But I’ll tell you all about these and many other things 
when I return. Your mother is very well, and sends word 
to have Sarah notified of our return. Be a good girl, and 
mind Mrs. Primkins. 

“ Humph ! ” said Nimpo. 

Youn AITECnONATE Fatheb. 

The first thing that Nimpo did, after read- 
ing the letter over twice, was to rush up-stairs 
and cram every one of her things into her 
trunk. 

When, at last, she went to bed, after telling 
the good news to every one she met, she tum- 
bled and tossed and could not sleep, and finally 
a bright idea came into her head. It was too 
bright to keep to herself till morning, so she got 
up, and, hastily wrapping herself in a blanket, 
w^ent to Eush’s door. 

“Eush, are you awake?” she said. 

“Yes,” said Eush. “I’m so glad the folks are 
coming that I can’t go to sleep.” 

“Neither can I,” said Nimpo, going in and sit- 
ting down on the foot of Eush’s bed. “And I’ll 


288 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


tell you what I mean to do to-morrow. I mean 
to go and see Sarah, as mother told me in the let- 
ter; and I’m going to have her come up and bake 
bread and things, so as to have something to eat 
when they come.” 

“ Oh, that’ll be grand ! ” said Kush, eagerly, 
sitting up in bed. “Let’s have sponge-cake and 
mince pies ! ” 

“Oh, no,” said Nimpo; “just bread and cookies, 
— oh, and pumpkin pies, and, perhaps, dough- 
nuts.” 

“And we’ll go down there and see her make 
them, and have some ! ” said Rush, excitedly. 

“Of course, we’ll go down,” said Nimpo; “but 
we won’t eat the things, — only, perhaps, a cooky 
or doughnut.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Rush; “they’re so nice hot. 
Old Primkins never gives a fellow one. Hers 
ain’t nice, either.’' 

“ Thank the fates, we’ve got ’most through with 
Mrs. Primkins,” said Nimpo, warmly. “For my 
part, I never want to see her again.” 

“How nice it’ll be to be home,” said Rush; 


NIMPO^S BRIGHT IDEA. 


289 


“ seem’s if I couldn’t wait two days longer. I 
wish it was morning now.” 

“So do I,” said Nimpo; “but it never will be, 
if I sit here.” So she went to bed. 

In the morning Nimpo and Rush started through 
the woods to Sarah’s, for they could not think of 
going to school on such a joyful day. 

They found Sarah washing on a bench out un- 
der the trees. 

“ Sarah ! Mother’s coming ! ” shouted Rush, as 
soon as he saw her. 

Sarah looked around. 

“ Oh, ’s that you ! Well, I spected y’r ma’d 
be ’long ’bout these yere days, ’n I’m jes washin’ 
up ready.” 

“Sarah,” said Nimpo, “I want you to come 
down and bake something before she comes, to 
surprise her, you know.” 

“Sure ’nuff,” said Sarah. “There won’t be a 
bite to eat in the house, ’n I spect ’twon’t hurt 
none to run a broom through.” 

Nimpo looked guilty. 

“It is mussed up some, and looks real lone 
19 


290 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


some; but you come up to-morrow, and I’ll help 
you fix up.” 

Sarah smiled. 

“ Go way now ! I reckon I hain’t done forgot 
how to clar up yet — not yet • I hasn’t ! I’ll be up 
the first thing. Shall I make up a batch o’ pies ? 
Punkins 'is good now. I done made some power- 
ful nice ones yesterday.” 

Kush’s mouth watered. 

“Come in ’n take a bite,” said Mrs. Johnson’s 
hospitable voice at the dool*. “Sarah does make 
oncommon good pies, ’n you’ve had a ’mazin’ long 
tramp.” 

They needed no urging, and in a moment each 
one received in the hand a rich golden block, cut 
from a square pie-tin. 

“ Sarah,” said Nimpo, standing in the door and 
eating hers, “Mrs. Wilson’s dog tore up one of 
mother’s damask towels.” 

“ La sakes ! ” said Sarah, holding up her hands. 
“ I jes wish I’d a-cotched him at it ! I’d a-gin 
him a crack over the head, nuff to beat the bref 
out! But how did he get it?” 


NIMPO'S BRIGHT IDEA. 


291 


“ I forgot it one day, and left it out doors,” said 
Nimpo humbly. “We played log house, and I 
had it for a table-cloth. Oh ! — and I tore moth- 
er’s white shawl.” 

“ Lor now ! I ’spects ye’s been up to no end 
o’ shines since y’r ma’s been gone,” said Sarah. 
“ I hearn tell that Mah’sr Eush here done runned 
away.” 

Eush looked sheepish. 

“La sakes! that’s nuffin!” broke in Mrs. -John- 
son, who was sorry for boys. “Mose all likely 
young fellers done run away onct. ’Pears like 
ye ain’t gwine to eat nuffin,” she went on, as 
Nimpo refused a second square of^the generous 
pie. 

Nimpo laughed, and told her she hadn’t eat- 
en any thing so good since her mother went 
away. 

“ Pore chile ! ” said Sarah, who thought no 
trouble in life was so bad — at least for white 
folks — as not having nice things to eat. “Pll 
come up to-morrow, ’n make some despit nice 
ones. But I’ll have so much clarin’ up, I reckon 


292 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 

you better get the punkin on to stew ’fore I get 
thar.” 

“AVell, I will,” said Nimpo, delighted to help. 
And she never thought till she was half way 
home, that she didn’t know how to stew pumpkin. 

Nimpo got up the next morning feeling very 
much like a woman of business. As soon as 
breakfast was over, she took Eobbie and went 
down to the house, while Kush ran to the far- 
ther end of the garden for a pumpkin. She had 
made a fire, and put the kettle on, when Eush 
rolled a big golden pumpkin into the kitchen. 

“ I don’t know how they stew pumpkin,” said 
Nimpo, “but I know I’ve seen Sarah cut it up 
soniehow.” So she took a knife, and went at it. 
To her surprise the knife wouldn’t go in. 

“ Why what an awful hard pumpkin this is ! ” 
she said. “ I don’t believe I can cut it. I guess 
it ain’t ripe.” 

“Pumpkins are always hard,” said Eush, “I 
know ’cause I’ve made lots of jack o’ lanterns, 
but I always take the hatchet to cut one up for 
the cow.” 


NIMPO'S BRIGHT IDEA. 


293 


So Nimpo took the hatchet, and after awhile, 
by dint of much hard work, and one or two severe 
chops of the table, the obstinate pumpkin was 
reduced to small pieces, and crammed into the 
kettle. 

“1 wonder if it takes water,” said Nimpo re- 
flectively. “I guess so — ^it’s so dry.” So she filled 
up the kettle with water. It was boiling away 
furiously when Satah came. 

“ Lor ! ” she exclaimed as soon as she caught 
sight of it. “ What under the sun ! why — what 
fur ye done put in so much water ? ” 

“ Is it too much ? — I didn’t know,” said Nimpo. 
“Too much ! ” said Sarah, snatching off the ket- 
tle, and pouring nearly all of the water into the 
sink. “ Go long ! — I sh’d think so ! ’pears like ye 
hain’t got no sense. I ’clar to goodness if ye ha’n’t 
done leff all the skins on ! ” 

“ Do you take the skin off? ” asked Nimpo, feel- 
ing very young and ignorant. 

“ 0 go way, will you ! ” said Sarah with a grunt, 
“ye’d a-better leff it alone. Ye ain’t much ’count 
no way, ’bout cookin’.” 


CHAPTER XXXL 


FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN. 

Sarah was soon up to her elbows in flour, and 
when engaged in the serious business of baking 
was, like all good cooks, rather cross to children. 
So Nimpo went meekly up-stairs, and took a book 
to read, while Robbie got out all his blocks and 
played on the sitting-room floor, and Rush went 
down to the store as usual. Just about noon. 
Rush came back. 

“Nimpo,” he said, “let’s red-head pins.” 

“We haven’t any sealing-wax,” answered Nim- 
po, shutting her book, for the story was growing 
dull, and, besides, she was beginning to want 
some of the good things that sent up savory 
odors from the kitchen. 

“ I have,” said Rush. “ I found a piece down at 
the store, and Cousin Will said I might have it.” 


FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN. 


295 


“Well,” said Nimpo, taking the wax, which he 
held out, “get some pins, and we’ll do it now.” 

Eush snatched his mother’s cushion off the bu- 
reau, and ran down just in time to see the wax 
laid on a handy place on the kitchen stove. 

“ What you gwine to do ? ” asked Sarah, who, 
now that the baking was olF her mind, was as 
pleasant as usual. 

“Going to red -head pins,” answered Nimpo. 
“If you’ve got an old darning-needle. I’ll make 
you a lovely shawl-pin.” 

“’Pears like I had one,” said Sarah. “I mos’ 
alius has one stickin’ in the wood ’side o’ the 
winder.” 

And she went into her room to see. 

“Yes, here’s one,” said she; “but yo be kereful 
’bout that ar. I’ve heerd tell of settin’ a house 
afire that a way.” 

“Oh, we’ll be careful,” exclaimed both the chil- 
dren. 

“I’m gwine to clar up the chambers now, an’ 
there’s a bite fur ye on the dining-room table,” 
said Sarah. 


296 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


Then, arming herself with broom and dust-pan, 
and tying a gorgeous yellow cotton handkerchief 
over her head, to keep the dust out of her hair, 
she marched off up-stairs. 

Nimpo and Kush hurried through with the red- 
heading business, and rushed in to lunch. They 
found fresh crisp doughnuts, delicious pumpkin 
pie, and a pitcher of milk; and they thought it 
a lunch fit for a queen. 

After they had eaten all they could, and, in 
fact, emptied the table, they still sat there, talk- 
ing over the delights of being at home once more, 
and wondering how other boys and girls could be 
contented to live with their parents. 

“ There’s Anna Morris,” said Nimpo. “ Her 
mother’s real cross, I think ; and she’s never 
pleasant like our mother. She’s always working 
in the kitchen like fury. She never says ‘ Good 
morning’ to me; but always hollers out, ‘Wipe 
your feet ! ’ I don’t see how Anna can bear 
her.” 

“Yes,” said Rush, “and Johnny Stevens’ mother, 
— she whips him if he only falls down and gets 


FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN. 


297 


muddy some. She keeps a stick over the clock, 
and if he doesn’t wipe his feet, or comes in muddy 
or with a hole torn, — how can folks help that, I’d 
like to know? — she just takes down that stick 
and beats him.” 

“ I should think he’d run a^vay,” said Nimpo, 
indignantly. 

“ He’s awful ’fraid of her,” said Rush. 

This little village that I’m telling about was 
one of the quietest and dullest towns you ever 
heard of; but it had one pet horror, and that 
was — Indians I It was not a very long time since 
they had been seen prowling around in the woods, 
and even coming to the farm-houses for something 
to eat. And the old settlers, who now sat in the 
corner by the fire, and smoked or knit,^ — according 
to their sex, — had plenty of horrible stories at 
their tongues’ end, and delighted to tell them to 
groups of eager youngsters, who enjoyed having 
their hair stand up with horror as well as some 
of you do nowadays. 

You may be sure that Nimpo and Rush were 
often found where there were stories to be heard; 


298 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


SO they had their minds filled with the fright- 
ful things which are told of the savages. 

On this day, when they were still sitting at 
the table, talking about other people’s mothers, 
and Sarah, who had just come down-stairs, was 
busy near the window, suddenly the door burst 
open, and a full-grown, frightful-looking Indian 
bounded in, with a war-whoop or some other un- 
earthly yell, brandishing his tomahawk in the 
most threatening manner, as though he meant 
to scalp them all in a minute. 

Sarah gave a dreadful scream and disappeared 
in the cellar. Nimpo, quick as thought, snatched 
Eobbie and dashed into the pantry, instantly put- 
ting her back against the door, and bracing her 
feet against the fiour-barrel. In a second, Rush 
bounced against the door, kicking violently and 
shouting, “ Let me in ! ” 

“ I’ll never open the door ! ” said Nimpo, despe- 
rately. “ Go somewhere else.” 

“I think you’re real mean!” said Rush, run- 
ning to the cellar door, and trying to get in there. 
But Sarah held that equally tight, and told him to 


A FULL-GROWN, FRIGHTFUL-LOOKING INDIAN BOUNDED IN. 















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FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN 


299 


“Go ’way dar.” Meantime, the Indian, amazed 
at the fright he had produced, for Robbie was 
screaming violently, spoke in his natural voice: 

“Here, Nimpo, Rush, it’s nobody but me — 
Cousin AVill ! I’ve just dressed up ! Sarah, don’t 
be such a goose. Robbie, come and see me ; 
don’t cry. Open the door.” 

Nimpo heard Rush laugh faintly, and say slow- 
ly, “Why, Cousin Will! ” and then she opened the 
door a crack. There stood the awful figure, but 
talking to Rush in Cousin Will’s voice; and on 
looking closely at his face, she could see, through 
the horrid stripes of paint, that it was, indeed, no 
other than Will. 

Then she came out, pale and trembling still; but 
she had to soothe Robbie, who couldn’t bear to 
look at him, and Sarah utterly refused to open the 
door. She could not so easily be reassured. 

The dress was that of an Indian chief, and Will 
— who delighted in startling people — had bor- 
rowed it, to try its effect on the children; but 
he had no idea of scaring them out of their 
wits. 


300 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


I can’t tell you just how the suit was made, but 
it was of gay colors, and had a long fringe down 
each leg and arm, that, when he danced and 
waved his arms, flew about and made a strange, 
wild appearance. Then his face was painted in 
gaudy stripes, and five long feathers stuck out 
from his head. 

After this valiant exploit. Master Will — who, it 
must be confessed, was hardly more than a great 
overgrown boy — made a raid upon Sarah’s freshly- 
made store of good things, while Kush and Nimpo 
looked on in dismay, wishing that Sarah would 
come and “put a stop to it.” But Will escaped 
unseen, though Sarah was angry enough when she 
discovered, what he had been doing. They could 
hear her muttering for a long time about “po’ 
white trash,” and “ scarin’ a body’s wits out,” and 
“stuffin’ ’s tho’ he never had nuffin,” and so on. 

“Kush,” said Nimpo, after awhile, “let’s get 
the fires ready to light, so it’ll look pleasant when 
lather and mother come. It’s cool in the evenings 
now, you know.” 

“Well,” said Kush. 


FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN 


301 


So they went out to the wood-shed, and brought 
in small sticks and kindling and dry chips. 

“ I’ll fix the parlor fire,” said Nimpo, “ and you 
fix the sitting-room; and then we- can light them 
the minute the stage stops, and it’ll all be in a 
blaze before they get in.” 

These fires were built in open fire-places, such 
as, I fear, you young folk have never seen, ex- 
cepting, perhaps, in some old-fashioned country 
kitchen, or in a fashionable parlor of late years. 
Large sticks were laid across andirons, — or fire- 
dogs, as some called them, — and on these Nimpo 
made a splendid pile of fine sticks, with a handful 
of shavings underneath. One match would set 
the whole in a blaze. 

Meantime, Rush, with Robbie’s valuable assist- 
ance, had made the same preparations in the sit- 
ting-room, and Sarah had put the finishing touches 
to the house. 

“Sarah,” said Nimpo, seeing her making prep- 
arations to go home. “You said you’d seen 
a house set afire by red -heading pins, tell us 
about it.” 


802 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“ 0 go long ! ” said Sarah, “ I hain’t got time ! ” 

“0 yes, you have!” said Nimpo eagerly; “it 
isn’t near dark yet. Come, do 1 ” 

“Wall,” said Sarah at last, “’tain’t a long one, 
an’ mebby I will.” 

“ Oh I Good 1 Come, Rush ! Come, Robbie 1 ” 
called Nimpo. “Sarah’s going to tell a story.” 

It did not take a minute to compose the eager 
audience of three on chairs, and Sarah sat down 
on the wash bench. 

“Now begin!” said Nimpo. 

“Wall,” Sarah began, “along time back when 
* I first come up from down Souf, I lived in a big 
city.” 

“Was it Cleveland?” asked Rush. 

“ No, Cincinnati,” said Sarah. “ Mis’ Parker — 
my missis — was a rale lady — Mis’ Parker was — 
’n Mr. Parker was a likely nuff man, but them 
young uns ! Lor ! they was nufi* to raise the dead 
with their shines. I never see no sich young 
uns no whar, ’n I was raised ’mong heaps o’ 
young uns too. Lizy, she was ’bout as big as 
Nimpo, ’n Johnny, he was nigh on to Rush’s size. 


FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN 


303 


not so hefty mebby. Wall, one night their pa 
’n ma went to meetin’, ’n the very last words she 
said to ’em was, ‘Now ’member, chillen, yo stay 
with Mis’ Ko ’ (Mis’ Ro was a sewin’ woman), ‘ ’n 
steddy yo Bible lesson, ’n don’t get inter mischief, 
’n mind ye don’t go down-stairs to boder Sarah.’ ” 

Sarah’s voice was very low and impressive, and 
her eyes glared out of the dark corner. 

“ In co’ase them wicked chillen said they 
wouldn’t, ’n they went off, ’n I clar to goodness ! 
’pears like she never shet the do’ ’fore they was 
cuttin’ up fit to tear the house down. But I 
didn’t care a mite, so’s they minded their ma 
’bout stay’n’ up-stairs. But la sakes now ! they 
was ’mazin’ young uns to dismember a pusson’s 
words; ’fore long I hearn a step.” Sarah rolled 
her eyes tragically. “ I know’d they was cornin’ 
down-stairs ’gainst their ma’s commands ! — think 
o’ that ! Chillen, the ole black debil’s alius aside 
o’ misobedient chillen.” 

The listeners gave a sigh for the wickedness 
of the Parker children, and Sarah went on. 

“ Soon’s ever the do’ at the bottom o’ the stairs 


304 


NIMFO’S TROUBLES. 


opened, I sung out, ‘ What did your ma say ’bout 
cornin’ down-stairs.’ 

‘ Oh,’ says Lizy, says she, ‘ ma tole us not to 
boder yo, ’n we ain’t gwine to boder yo, we’re 
jes a-gwine to red-head pins.’ Now red-headdin’ 
pins ain’t no sin as I knows on,” said Sarah gen- 
erously, “but misobeyin’ mothers ’s ’n a-w-f-u-1 sin, 
an’ them ar wicked chill en soon foun’ it out. I 
know’d thar’d be trubble, so I tuk my knittin’ ’n 
sot down in the fur corner. The wicked boy, he 
tuk out o’ his pocket a big chunk o’ wax, ’n the 
wicked girl, she had a hull paper o’ pins I ’spect. 
Wall, they fixed some o’ the pins, ’n some they los’ 
in the fire, ’n some they spiled, ’n they daubed the 
stove till I was clean beat out 1 was, ’n thar was 
heaps mo’ wax, ’n the naughty Lizy she tole John- 
ny to go long up-stairs, ’n fotch some mo’ pins, out 
o’ ma’s draw, ’n he went; ’n now mind!” said Sa- 
rah more impressively and slowly than ever, “ the 
bad boy tuk a can’l out the sittin’-room whar 
Mis’ Ro was sewin’, ’n he sot it down on his ma’s 
bureau in the closet ’n opened her draw. Top o’ 
the bureau was some shelves, ’n curtings ’fore ’em, 


FRIGHTENED BY AN INDIAN. 


305 


n this bad boy done sot the can’l right ’n under 
the curlings — ” 

Now Sarah lowered her voice to a sort of ghast- 
ly whisper — 

“’n less ’n no time it got ’spiciously light, he 
looked up, ’n 

THE HOUSE WAS AFIRElIl” 

This last with a yell and a spring forward that 
made her excited audience look around in terror, 
expecting to see the flames rolling over them. 

“What did he do?” breathlessly asked Nimpo. 

“ He hollered Are ! ” said Sarah giving the cry 
with dramatic efiect. “ The bad girl dropped the 
pins ’n runned up-stairs, ’n I arter her. Thar stood 
Mis’ Ro — po’ miz’able thing! — gone clean out o’ 
her senses, a-whirlin’ roun’ ’n roun’ like a tetotal, 
a-wringin’ her ban’s an’ cryin’. The bad boy was 
gwine to open a windy, ’n the wicked girl she hol- 
lered ’n began to spit on it,” said Sarah with un- 
speakable disgust. 

“What did you do? Was the house burnt 
up?” interrupted Rush. 


306 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


“I had my senses leff. I jes snatched down 
them curtings, ’n pitched the wash pitcher o’ wa- 
ter on ’em. That put it out, ’n I went back down- 
stairs, but them chillen was well sheer’d that time. 
They know’d it was all ’cause o’ their misobeyin’ 
their ma, ’n they ’spected a good sound wallopin’ 
when their pa ’n ma come home. Fur onct them 
young uns was still’s a mouse, ’n when the folks 
cum home they done cried ’n took on awful.” 

“Did they get whipped?” asked Nimpo. 

“ Laws no, chile ! folks don’t alius get what’s 
good fur ’em. Lizy’s new bunnet was burnt up, 
’n Johnny’s Sunday hat, that’s all they got, ’n they 
didn’t keer fur that, fur they had new ones ’fore 
next Sunday. 

“Now I’m gwine home,” said Sarah putting on 
her sun-bonnet, “ mind ye come arter me the min- 
ute y’r ma comes.” 

“I expect it’ll be to-morrow,” said Nimpo. 

“I don’t; folks never gits home when they 
spects to,” said Sarah. 


s \ 


\ 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

COMING HOME. 

The next afternoon, when it was nearly time for 
the stage, the three children went down to the 
house, with clean clothes and faces, and hair in 
a wonderful state of smoothness. 

Nimpo and Rush took matches in their hands to 
be ready, and Robbie climbed up to the window 
to watch. After long and tiresome waiting, they 
heard the driver’s horn, and knew that the stage 
was coming round the corner. So both of them 
lighted matches, though with excited, trembling 
hands, and set fire to long paper lighters which 
they had prepared. And then they stood and 
held them, and gazed at the approaching red 
stage, ready, on the least sign of drawing up at 
the door, to stuff the torch into the shavings. 

But, alas! it cruelly drove by, and Nimpo was 


308 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


SO surprised and grieved, that she held her paper 
till it burnt her fingers. 

Disappointment is a hard thing to bear, and 
slowly and sadly the children locked up the house, 
and walked back to Mrs. Primkins’. 

That lady stood on the steps, and something 
like a smile came round her mouth, though it felt 
so little at home that it didn’t stay long. 

“So your folks didn’t come, eh?” 

“ No,” said Nimpo, with a choking in her throat. 

“Wall, I didn’t expect ’em a mite; people ’most 
always get hendered on the way; likely they’ve 
had a storm on the lake, too. You better unpack 
your trunk now, and stay another night or two.” 

Poor Nimpo had locked and strapped her trunk, 
sure that she should never open it again at Mrs. 
Primkins’, and now she couldn’t even go to bed 
without getting out nightgowns and brushes. It 
was almost as bad to unpack that night as it was 
on the first day, when she was so disappointed. 

The next day was fearfully long; it did seem 
as though school would never be out, and several 
times Nimpo thought the clock had sjtopped. 


COMING HOME. 


309 


But evening came, and again the eager watch- 
ers lighted their torches and awaited with fast- 
beating hearts the heavy roll of the lumbering 
wheels. They knew they would come this time. 

But again the hateful stage rolled by with no 
sign of stopping. 

Bobbie began to cry, and Nimpo felt very much 
as if she would like to cry herself,' while Bush 
suddenly had pressing business in another part 
of the house. 

However, they once more walked sadly back 
to Mrs. Primkins’. 

“ You’ll make out your week yet,” was her 
greeting; “here it is Friday night, and if they 
don’t come to-morrow, they’ll wait till Monday, — 
and that’ll be just five weeks to a day.” 

“They must come before Monday,” said Nimpo, 
greatly disturbed, for Mrs. Primkins’ cool way of 
speaking made it seem the most natural thing in 
the world for them to stay a week or two longer. 

“If wishes were horses, then beggars would 
ride,” was Mrs. Primkins’ irritating reply. “Wish- 
ing and hoping never brought any thing to pass 


310 


NIMPO'S TROUBLES. 


that ever I see in my experience. Waiting’s the 
thing for us to learn. Likely your ma’s stopped 
over to see somebody.” 

“ If they don’t come to-morrow, I never can wait 
till Monday,” said Nimpo, excitedly. 

“Hoity-toity! I guess you’ll have to,” said 
Mrs. Primkins, mockingly. “You’ve got several 
things to learn yet, my lady, though you’re 
’mazin’ wise in your own conceit.” 

Nimpo felt that she could not stand another 
word, so she went on up-stairs. But on the way 
she made a resolution : 

» “If they don’t come to-morrow. I’ll get Sarah 
down to the house, and stay there till they do 
come. I can't stand it here another day.” 

But happiness was close by. The next morn- 
ing, before they were out of bed, there came up 
the attic stairs a joyful sound, although it was 
Mrs. Primkins’ voice: 

“ Children, your folks is come I ” 

With a glad cry, Nimpo sprang out of bed, and 
tried to dress ; but never were buttons so stubborn, 
nor hooks and eyes so clumsy; never did strings 


COMING NOME. 


311 


get so tangled, nor hair so snarled; it seemed as 
if she should never get her clothes on. And there 
was Kobbie calling excitedly for her to dress him 
too. 

As for Kush, he jumped into his clothes — as a 
boy will — and was down-stairs and half-way home 
before Nimpo was ready to begin on Robbie. 

At last, however, enough buttons were adjusted 
to hold the clothes on, and without stopping to 
pack the trunk again, Nimpo and Robbie set otf 
on a run for home. 

Before they were half-way there, they met 
Rush, wheeling a wonderful little wheel-barrow, 
which mother had brought for Robbie. 

Robbie could not get by that, and Nimpo let go 
of his hand and rushed on alone. 

In a moment she was, to her surprise, sobbing 
in her mother’s arms. 

“ Oh, mother ! I’m so glad you’ve come ! ” was 
all she could say. 

“Then you prefer home to boarding, after all, 
do you, dear?” said her mother, kissing her. 

“Oh, mother!” Nimpo broke out penitently, 


312 


NIMPO^S TROUBLES. 


“I’ve had nothing but trouble since you went 
away I I’ve got into more scrapes than ever in my 
life before! I’ve spoilt your black alpaca dress, 
and torn your white shawl, and — and — I can’t tell 
half the mischief we’ve done.” 

“Well, never mind now,” said Mrs. Rievor ; 
“you can tell me by and by. Now come and see 
what I have brought you.” 

I shall not tell you of Nimpo’s presents, and 
the book of poems; for, glad as she was to get 
them, they were nothing when compared with the 
best gift of all — her home and her mother. 


END. 


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